A Twelve Step Program to Omnipotence
by Bakkughan
Summary: A Marvel fan from our world is reborn in the MCU. Sure he could follow the SI clichés; become a hero, save the world and get the girl, but Michael McCole instead decides to follow a different path. After all, in a world where magic is real, reality is what you decide for it to be. There will be challenges along the way, but nobody said becoming a God was easy.
1. First Steps

_**First Steps**_

* * *

I waited patiently until Pepper Potts and her escort of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents entered the Stark facility, biding my time in the shadow cast by the buildings on the other side of the compound. I could try and sneak in after them, but it would be far easier to just wait for Stane to provide a distraction and then simply walk in, no sneaking required.

BOOOMM!

And that is my queue. Thanks Stane, I owe you one. Well, not really since a: you're an evil, terrorist funding, bastard and b: you'll be dead by the time I get what I came here for.

As the building is lit up by bright flashes and the stacatto blasts of gunfire, I simply walk inside and make my way deeper into the complex where Stane is walking around in the twisted love child of the Iron Man armor and a tank, squashing S.H.I.E.L.D. agents left and right.

The ridiculously high turnover rate of agents (not to mention them being a shell for the most evil human organization in history) had kept me from entering the spy agency in order to get my grubby hands on all of their fancy toys in my quest for godhood.

Because when you find yourself in a fictional universe with gods and monsters and aliens, you could either try and become buddies with the heroes (in the case of females this required you to be both ridiculously pretty as well as emotionally connected to at least one of them or in the case of men, you were ridiculously badass with about every superheroine salivating over your body) or you could realize that magic was real and decide to supplex reality in being your little bitch.

Within the first ten minutes of being born in this world I decided on the latter.

And the first step in my Twelve Step Program (more like Twenty Steps but who was keeping count anyway) involved salvaging whatever I could from Stane's reverse engineering of Tony Stark's masterpiece.

Of course his _true_ masterpiece, the Arc Reactor, was out of my reach until I was powerful enough to rip it out of his chest with my bare hands, but in the meantime I could at least try and take his armor for myself. Or just wait until Whiplash manages to make an Arc Reactor on his own. Better make that Twenty-one Steps then.

During my musings Stane had been ever so kind to keep the spotlight on him, allowing me to enter the hangar where he first activated the Iron Monger unchallenged, with the exception of the odd dead agent I had to watch out not to trip over.

That'd just be embarrassing.

Once in the hangar I immediately began tearing every single blueprint off the walls and tables leaving nothing behind, stuffing it all in my oversized duffelbag. I could sort this all out in the safety of my apartment without a spy agency and one of the smartest and dangerous men in the world breathing down my neck.

Despite the fact that I knew nobody was in a position to stop me from stealing the plans to the most advanced armor in the world, on the account of nobody knowing I was here or even existed for that matter, too focused as they were on the metallic slugfest between Stane and Tony judging by the familiar whine of repulsor blasts, I still felt sweat pouring down my neck, soaking my shirt, making it cling to my chest in the most uncomfortable way.

I felt like I was in the most dangerous fight of my life despite the fact that all I was doing was walking around stuffing paper in a duffelbag. After what felt like hours of running around with my heart trying its best to hammer its way to freedom straight through my ribcage I had finally managed to rip the last blueprint (a giant poster with what at a glance seemed to be the overall outline of the Iron Man/Monger armor on it) off the wall, trying my best to ignore the smoking hole in the metal right next to me. I knew that I had to hurry up now as I could hear the fight getting closer again, which meant an increase of threat against my continued good health, either by massive explosions or overeager spies who might be Nazi's in disguise.

As I made my way to the exit of the building I had the biggest scare of my life when from the roof of the building came a crash that shook the entire structure. Worse than that however was the sound of someone shouting orders ahead from me, with what seemed like a dozen footsteps running towards me in an orderly yet hurried fashion.

Looks like S.H.I.E.L.D. reinforcements have (unfortunately) arrived on the scene.

As panic tried (and somewhat succeeded) to rear it's head I threw myself and my duffelbag into one of the sidehalls in the mazelike interior surrounding the hangar like area where Stane first activated his monstrosity. Throwing myself to the ground, I was briefly thankful for my decision to wear a generic suit which, combined with the poor (or rather, non-existant) lightning allowed me to pass as one of the nameless grunts already littering the hallway.

Within the first ten steps of my Twenty-one Step Plan, no human would be able to harm me anymore. A few steps later and I could at the very least survive a fight with Thor, who managed tank a blast from a neutron star and live to tell about it. By the end of my plan I would be effectively omnipotent.

Now though? Now all I was capable of was lying down, covered in sweat while trying to get some measure of control over my harsh breathing, playing dead in the hope a bunch of S.H.I.E.L.D. goons wouldn't find me.

Perhaps not the grandest start to galactic domination but I had to begin somewhere.

I desperately held my breath as I heard a squad of agents barrel down the hallway I had been walking in only moments before, praying to whatever deity that was on my side (given how many there are in this world, sheer probability dictated that at least one should be. Right?) that the agents were distracted enough by the lightshow on the roof to not check their dead.

My silent terror sky-rocketed when I heard a commanding voice call out in a soft whisper, as the multitude of footsteps slowed down to a halt.

"Fan out, keep your heads on a swivel."

' _No, don't fan out! Don't fan out! Keep going straight ahead, there's a bad guy with power armor there, that means instant death for you guys, shouldn't you be running face first into that!?'_ I screamed internally, trying to keep as still as possible.

I could only lie there, paralyzed by fear as I heard soft footsteps creeping ever closer to where my sweat soaked body was lying face down on the harsh ground.

Any second now, he would see that I was still alive. Any second now I would be captured by an organization which was run by the most evil bastards on earth. Any second now my life would be over before it even had a chance to really take off. Any second now-

"We got incoming! Everybody move, move, move!"

My quiet sigh of relief went unheard in the middle of the pandemonium that resulted after yet another explosion rattled the building. Feeling more than seeing that the superpowered brawl between Stane and Tony was coming to an end, I waited till I heard the last of the footsteps run deeper into the complex before I made a mad dash towards my overstuffed duffelbag.

I hurriedly made my way to the exit, not wanting to see Stane (and by extension this building and therefore me) go up in flames.

Running away was surprisingly galling but the sheer terror that consumed me when I was nearly discovered quickly beat my sense of pride into submission, leaving it a snivelling wreck before taking the wheel of my motor functions, telling me nothing was more important than getting the fuck outta here.

I was supremely grateful for its sense of initiative when not moments after I had left through the back entrance (the front was surrounded by a small army of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents) the entire building seemed to explode, a wave of heat and pressure slamming me to the ground.

Chancing a quick look over my shoulder, I saw that it was only the main hall, where the giant Reactor stood, that had been obliterated.

Not to mention the bits of Obadiah Stane that were most likely raining down everywhere.

Scrambling to my feet, ignoring my scuffed hands and ripped pants, I hurried my ass out of there to where my car was parked a few blocks away. A modest Honda civic it probably wouldn't draw any attention as I made my way to the middle class neighborhood I lived in.

It was nearly 3 AM when I had finally managed to come home, shrug off my dirtied clothes and dropped onto my bed, completely exhausted.

Stealing blueprints to advanced weaponry from underneath the nose of the greatest spy agency in the world as well as the inventor of said weaponry was surprisingly tiring.

Resolving to look at my loot first thing in the morning I switched off the lights and immediately I was dead to the world.

* * *

Stark is a genius. Let me rephrase that: Stark is a _fucking_ genius. I mean, I knew he was, everybody both here and in my old world knew he was. But to actually look at his work, botched by Stane as it was, actually drove home just how much smarter the Merchant of Death was than me.

If it wasn't for Stane having to dumb most of it down for himself and the scientists on his payroll I probably wouldn't even know what I was looking at. As it stood, while I had a decent understanding of how the armor worked (operating under its own weight without crushing the wearer, or how inertia dampeners allowed Tony to be punched through a wall with only a bruise to show for it, that kinda thing) the Arc Reactor was completely beyond me.

I sorta got the theory behind it, but I had absolutely no clue how to go and actually build the damn thing, especially small enough for it to be carried.

Sorry Ivan, but it seems I'm gonna have to take your stuff.

Filing the armor away for now (and I do mean _file_. With all the supernerds in this universe there's no way in hell I'm digitizing any of this. For now the plans go behind a false plank underneath my sink) I start trawling through the internet trying to get my hands on as many news outlets as possible and visiting every forum there is. With my meta knowledge separating hoax from truth is a walk in the park and I'm hoping that somewhere among the rumors and speculations I can find clues for my master plan of Galactic Domination.

You know, I really feel like an evil laugh would be appropriate there but the walls of my apartment are thin and I can do without any noise complaints.

Ah well, I'll just do them later once I have a proper lair.

Suddenly a news article grabbed my attention with all the subtlety of Thor trying to put IKEA furniture together using Mjolnir.

' _Soda factory in Rio shut down due to massive structural damage , witnesses claim to have heard gunfire and have even claimed to have seen a monster. Neither the authorities nor the executives of the company were available for comment."_

I smirked as I read the short article, skimming over the fact that some employees had apparently been injured in what was being presented as a work related accident.

I knew better.

"Hello Bruce." I said softly with a grin that would make many a sailor break out in cold sweat and mutter something about needing a bigger boat.

Unfortunately I couldn't act on this yet as it was part of Step 3. For now I would need to focus on Step 2. After well over two hours of caffeine supported digging through the most untrustworthy and speculative parts of the internet I finally found what I was looking for.

An apparently leaked memo that hinted at Stark Industries planning some sort of big event. Ideas were thrown around about what this could be, one more ridiculous than the last (one presented the idea that Tony would unveil a sex oriented line of Iron Man… paraphernalia) but I knew what it really would be.

Time to put on my nice suit, I was going to the Stark Expo.

As a compromise, this time I laughed inside my head. So what if that makes me crazy? Everybody else already is.

' _Bwahahahahahahahaha.'_

* * *

It's amazing the places you can get into with just a safety vest and an expression that says that you know what you're doing. I quickly realized that my salvage idea that I used in Step 1 might not work here due to it being far more in the open and with thousands of people present. Infiltrating Hammer Industries was also out of the question since I simply wasn't good enough for it and I seem to remember that Black Widow already was doing that.

Hijacking control over the drones was a no-go since not only was Ivan a way better programmer than me, he did everything in Russian which I could speak well enough to either order a vodka or get my teeth kicked in.

Certainly not well enough to try and out hack a genius.

So, instead of scavenging stuff after the fact, I decided to come in way in advance. I helped setting up the stages, laying down the wiring, everything you could think of, I tried to do. While I was hired for construction, which meant that thankfully I got payed for all my time there (even Galactic Overlords need to eat) I used my vest, id-badge and sheer confidence to get to areas where I technically wasn't allowed to go.

Such as the unloading area where Hammer's drones would arrive before they'd be placed on the platform where they would be revealed on stage. Underneath my bulky work clothes I was wearing a bare bones version of the Iron Man armor, made from the material I had managed to pilfer during my time setting up the Expo.

You wouldn't believe the amount of raw material that went in to making all of the stands, visitor areas, walkways, hell, even parkings required tonnes of stuff to make.

And with my almighty safety vest, I had access to all of it. Of course I had to be careful about what and how much I took, so I was limited to small amounts of steel and power tools (not to mention the size of the boot of my Honda) which was why I applied months in advance.

During my time working here I had stolen enough material and tools to make at least the skeleton of the power armor. It was basically just a frame on my torso and limbs hidden from view by my uniform. It offered me no protection but it did give me superstrengh.

As I walked into the loading area with my toolbox in hand I was stopped by an armed guard stepping in my way. As I tried to keep my breath even I was immensely relieved to see that while the guy was alert he wasn't suspicious of me or wary, his hands resting loosely on top of his gun.

"This is a restricted area sir, I'm going to need to see some id."

"Oh, yeah sure. Here you go." I replied, trying to keep any tremors out of my voice as I reached into the back pocket of my overalls with my bulky gloves, fishing out the card and presenting it to the security guard.

The card said two things: the first was that I did indeed work for the Stark Expo.

The second thing it said was that I wasn't actually allowed in _this_ part of the Expo.

Thankfully, given where I had just pulled the card from made the guard somewhat disinclined to look all that closely at my badge. Not taking any chances I tried to reassure the man with the submachine gun in his hands.

"I'm just here to fix the wiring. Lights are acting up."

Right on cue the lamps in the ceiling sputtered in pitiful protest before dimming slightly. As they should, given the fact that I had sabotaged the wiring not 5 minutes ago.

Giving a glance towards the ceiling before glancing at my card again, the guard looked at me again before giving a shallow nod.

"On your way then."

Dipping my head in thanks I made sure to walk away in an unhurried tempo without making it obvious I was trying to do so. I needn't have bothered as the guard deemed me completely uninteresting, turning away from me and watching the open end of the loading bay where the trucks with the Hammer drones would enter.

Making my way towards an adjacent room on the other side of the hangar (this one without a guard thankfully) I sat down at one of the many terminals that were scattered all over the backstage area, due to the amount of robotics, pyrotechnics and whatever other -technics you could imagine being used in the Expo which required massive amounts of data.

I had no clue what the terminal I was sitting at was supposed to do, my briefcase with tools and important looking manuals (one was for the blender I had at home as it had stopped working for some reason) opened beside me but I knew one thing for sure: it wasn't for fixing the lights.

After about ten minutes of me looking busy (while actually trying to figure out why my stupid blender apparently couldn't conquer the might of the ordinary banana) I saw the guard who looked extremely bored after his eight hour shift of just standing around, perk up slightly.

As the sound of heavy engines met me I understood why: the drones have arrived.

I kept "working" at my terminal (honestly it was a _banana,_ a toothless grandma could chew it, so what the hell blender?) as the heavy crates containing the drones were offloaded and unpacked. I waited until the hustle and bustle of the entire process was winding down before I heard a hesitant knock on the door frame.

The guard from before gave an uncomfortable look at my toolbox with its foreboding manuals promising ultimate boredom and at me, kneeling in front of the terminal with my arms up to my elbows in its guts (I had given up on the mystery of the only blender known to man who was apparently allergic to bananas and out of pettiness had decided I might as well try and figure out what this terminal was actually supposed to do).

"You alright there?"

Giving a non committal shrug I turned back to the inner workings of the machine in front of me (mostly to try and hide the heart attack he had given me) as I replied, making sure to line my voice with annoyance.

"Sure, sure. Some idiot tried cutting corners in laying down the wiring so instead of a sequential relay I'm now dealing with a parallel circuit so's now I gotta go and run diagnostic's on every goddamn breaker, which is gonna take more time than actually laying the wiring right in the first place!"

The guard gave a confused blink at my torrent of inane techno-babble (as intended) before evidently deciding it was not his problem.

"Right, guess that sucks huh? Look, the shipment has been unloaded but the crew that are supposed to take the lot to the stage area haven't arrived yet but my shift technically ended about 35 minutes ago and I ain't getting paid overtime. You mind keeping an eye on things till they or the next guard shift turns up?"

While the overworked guard was clearly surprised (and angered) by the tardiness of the next shift, I on the other hand felt only satisfaction. Then again, I had the advantage over the guard in knowing why the next shift was so late: because I arranged it to be so.

I might not be willing to try and hack a criminal unstable genius like Ivan Vanko, but Jennifer from Administration?

Bring. It. On.

One sleepless night spent hacking the work schedule for this week using keycodes and passwords swiped from meeting rooms where I had technically no access to (thank you invincible safety vest!) and I had given myself a half hour window between this guard's shift and the arrival of the drones and the start of the next shift. More than enough with the superstrengh granted by my armor and with my tools in my toolbox.

"Yeah, sure not a problem. Something happens, I'll just give a yell or something." I said, trying to sound as uninterested as possible, giving a nonchalant wave with one of my grease stained gloves as I turned back towards the mass of wires and circuity in front of me.

The guard was clearly uncomfortable with leaving some electrician watching over a shipment of advanced military grade weaponry, but he turned out to be even more uncomfortable with working for more than nine hours straight by now (courtesy of yours truly again).

"Right. Good luck with the… thing." He muttered, before being waved off as I just turned my back on him.

I waited until the door on the far side of the hangar clicked closed, before I bolted towards where the drones were packed in neat rows. I had at maximum a half hour before the next shift was supposed to show up, but I still remembered the near miss at the showdown between Stane and Stark. At any moment someone could show up and massively screw up my plans.

Sure, my power armor would allow me to at least get out of here alive, but I'd be on so many radars it wasn't even funny anymore.

But I hadn't put on the armor for a fight, as counter-intuitive as it felt to every teenager in the universe, but for something more… utalitarian.

The drones were massive solid metal forms, protected from tampering by strong plates and internal software. An obstacle easily overcome by me ripping away the plating at the neck of one of the Navy-model drones. I knew Ivan had trackers in the drones, but I also seemed to remember that taking out their heads cut off his remote control. Now obviously I couldn't simply rip off the head entirely, that was rather likely to be noticed. But tear out the online connector?

Now _that_ I can do.

Slipping a signal jammer inside the body of the drone for good measure, I slap the plating back roughly into place using some of the more sophisticated tools in my arsenal (fine, I'll confess, I used duct tape) before making my way around the other models, each time only disabling a single drone in each batch as too many would draw too much attention.

Surprisingly, despite me expecting to be found out at any moment I actually managed to finish with ten minutes to spare. I quickly gathered all of my stuff, triple checking to see if I left any clues behind that could lead back to me, but thankfully not finding any.

I wasn't worried about the cameras that covered the hangar since I knew they didn't actually have any power.

I should know, I installed them myself.

Seeing nothing more I could do to cover my tracks I swiftly made my way towards the main stage area, my pass and mighty safety vest easily granting me access to the backstage area where in a couple of hours Justin Hammer would make a fool of himself, courtesy of Whiplash.

And now, all I had to do was wait.

* * *

I calmly sipped my soda (no beer for now as I wanted to be completely sober for what came next) as Hammer's world went up in flames.

Quite literally, as one Air Force drone bombed the stage next to the one he had been standing on.

Despite the general mayham and pandemonium I was perfectly calm. Unlike everybody else here, I knew that Tony Stark had managed to get his head out of his ass, massively improve his Arc Reactor and was now on his way to punch Ivan into next week.

And sure enough a gold and red blur arrived and started shooting the drones out of the sky with well-placed repulsor blasts. Taking that as my cue, I walked towards the back of the stage which was deserted as all the employees had deemed the explosions too close for comfort and decided to take off towards safer pastures.

I took control of the lifts that had raised the drones on platforms onto the stage behind Hammer during his speech and ordered them down again. When Ivan started his attack, almost all of the drones took off and started raining down death and destruction upon the audience of the Expo. A few of the drones however had remained unresponsive on the platform.

They were my drones now.

Using my superstrengh I knocked down a portion of the temporary wall behind the main stage, which opened up to a large parking lot filled with company cars and trucks.

My car, with a trailer attached to it as was nearly every vehicle there, was right in front of the hole I had just punched through the wall (there is something inherently satisfying about having a punching match with an architectural element and coming out on top. This might just be my new favorite hobby).

Wasting no time since the dogfight over the Expo seemed to increase in intensity, I hurried back to the platforms with my unresponsive drones on them, throwing one over my shoulders. Each one weighed around half a tonne, but with my armor on I could take it (though it gave a distressed whine when I lifted the Army model with its oversized turret).

Throwing it onto the trailer I quickly covered the heap of robots with with some tarp, got in my car and drove away from the Expo, where in all likelihood Stark and Rodey were fighting off Whiplash.

I was greatly tempted to stick around to try and get my hands on Ivan's Arc Reactor but once again S.H.I.E.L.D. was on the scene and I didn't want to push my luck just yet.

It was the same reason why I didn't go to Hammer's base to go for Ivan's blueprints since the Black Widow was currently there. At the moment I vastly outclassed her in the strength department, but I was sorely lacking in defensive options, while she was both faster and more skilled than me, which meant there was a chance she could disable me.

No, I'll have to be content and take my drones to my storage unit, rip them apart and put them together for my own armor.

No matter, there were other steps down the line which would allow me to have another chance at obtaining the Arc Reactor for myself, I just had to be patient a little longer.

Step 3 was close to commencing and with the treasure trove of robotics in my trailer I'll be ready.

I'm coming for you Bruce.

Or rather, I'm coming for your blood.

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Loki's first appearance in the Marvel Universe predates that of his brother Thor's first appearance by 13 years.


	2. I vant to steal your blood

_**I vant to steal your blood, aha aha aha!**_

* * *

I'm bent over my workbench with my powertool in hand, a gutted Hammertech drone in front of me, when I hear a chime come from my computer on the other end of the storage area where I'm working on my own Iron Man armor.

Everything here is stolen from the Stark Expo, the tools, the soundproofing, the equipment, which means that it's all state of the art and I can work without fear of drawing the attention of someone outside. Likewise the computer, while not the fanciest model out there, was still heaps better than what I should be able to afford on my wages from my dozen odd jobs, which is why I hid it here.

As far as superhero lairs go, a teched out storage unit isn't the most glamorous, but it's a start.

Unfortunately my Twenty-four Step Program (the Steps keep increasing because I keep thinking of cool stuff I can steal/scavenge/build) is solely based on acquiring power, not wealth, so until I've made myself effectively immortal (Step 6 to 8) I'll just have to suck it up and try to get by on my minimum wage.

Sure I could use my tech and powers (when I get them) to steal money, hell, with what I had right here I could just walk into a bank and punch the vault door straight off its hinges, but that would suck me into a villain narrative.

Before you know it, like clock work I'll be running around in spandex with some ridiculous scheme to steal all the gold in Fort Knox using the cunning power of goldfish, only to be defeated just in time for dinner and locked away yet again, all the while screaming things like 'damn you Spiderman!'.

No, instant ramen will have to do. For now.

Shutting down the power saw that I had been using to dismantle an Air Force drone and shrugging off my thick gloves I walked over to my desk, which was covered in notes, blueprints and a couple of Stark Industries computers, my power armor whirring as I moved.

Until Step 3 was completed I was still a squishy human so I wasn't taking any chances and always made sure to wear the armor, just in case I missed something and someone managed to track me down. Nobody was going to catch me unawares.

Besides, the armor was a bitch and a half to put on or take off, so I tried to keep it on as long as possible.

Reaching my desk I leaned over one of the computers to see what triggered one of my alerts before an immense grin flashed across my face. One of the simpler programs I've written, designed to flag certain keywords, had managed to catch what I had been looking for.

" _Shoot-out between U.S. Military and a monster at Cornell University Campus!"_

Someone had managed to take all of the footage students had managed to capture and combine it in a short film of about 5 minutes. It had almost immediately been banned (S.H.I.E.L.D.'s work no doubt) but by then it had already had thousands of views and in a matter of moments 10 more versions sprung up at various forums, and the numbers just kept increasing.

' _You screwed up, Ross, cat's outta the bag now. No way even S.H.I.E.L.D. can contain this, and even if you can keep this off the major news channels, people won't forget this.'_ I thought to myself in vicious amusement, before straightening and cracking my neck.

If I remembered correctly (and I knew I did, since I had made a gigantic poster of the MCU timeline and had hung it on the wall off my storage unit) then the Hulk would flee to some forest somewhere, and then he and Betty would make their way towards the only man they thought might cure Bruce.

Mr. Blue, at the Grayburn College here in New York.

I had no clue where the forest was where the Hulk was hiding out, and I had no idea how long it would take for Bruce and Betty to make their way towards New York, but that didn't matter. I already was in New York, and I was only days away from completing the first version of my armor, which would be enough for my current purposes.

Hell, a balaclava would do for my plan, but there's something comforting about wearing hundreds of pounds of metal and weapons when two behemoths start wrecking your neighbourhood.

Quickly setting up another program to flag any mentions about happenings in Harlem or the Grayburn College, I pulled my gloves back on and slammed my welding mask back down over my face.

There was work to be done.

* * *

It had taken roughly two weeks for Bruce and Betty to reach Grayburn College, which meant that I had managed to finish my armor a few days before schedule. As a result, I had taken the opportunity to hang around the College, pretending to be a janitor, as it allowed me much more freedom of movement than pretending to be one of the students.

I had made extra sure to hang around the office of one Samuel Stein, which had been made significantly easier by the man's stereotypical nutty professor persona: as I wasn't an academic or of academic interest, I almost didn't even exist to the man as he hurried down the hallways deep in thought.

While I was tempted to break into his office to get the synthesized blood of Banner right now, I held off on it, mainly because I couldn't remember wether the blood had been hidden or even stashed at his office at all. The movie had come out almost a decade before I was removed from my original universe, so details like that were extremely hazy.

No, better use my tried and true tactic of waiting for a villain to bring the fireworks, and while the heroes were distracted, make my getaway with the shiny loot.

And I was counting on the Abomination being one hell of a distraction.

So, I'll wait until Blonsky gets his fix, and while he tears up Harlem, I'll walk in with my armor on (which was currently dismanteled and stashed in the back of a rental van bought under a false identity, which was riding uncomfortably low on it's axels) take the blood and most importantly, try and take Stein as well.

Stan Lee died of drinking a single, diluted drop of the Hulk's blood; I was planning to inject myself with a full bloodbag.

I needed a man like Stein in order to see wether I would even survive the process or not. If he wouldn't come with me, or if he discovered that the blood would kill me, I'd have to wait for another serum which would boost my regeneration and constitution before trying again.

I really hoped not though, as most of those serums were only available in later Steps, and I desperately needed a boost _now_.

Shaking off my worries, I made my way towards my van when I saw Banner (in his Ruffalo portrayal, I was wondering about that, seemed this universe retroactively edited itself) and Betty made their way into Stein's office.

Tonight the showdown between Hulk and Abomination would occur; tonight would be the night I made my first Step towards evolving my body to a higher plane.

Unable to resist, but not wanting to draw any attention to myself, I conceded to the urge to let out an evil laugh, but made sure to do so softly, under my breath.

"Bwahahahahahaha…"

You know what, it's a lot less impressive when you need to whisper your diabolical laughs.

* * *

Right as I slid on my helmet, an almighty crash thundered across the College. Seems like Blonsky got his fix then. Quickly making my way back inside the building I ran towards where I now know Stein and his batch of Hulk-blood is, not caring about the few people that are around to see me, as my identity is safely hidden underneath my helmet, and my armor is painted in muted colours in order to blend in with the darkness of the night.

Reaching the room where Blonksy transformed into the Hulk, I ignored the door in favour of simply running straight through the wall, showering a surprised and slightly mutated Stein in brick and mortar (I could have used the door of course, but I couldn't resist the urge to once again inflict grivious harm upon architectural elements. It's addictive I tell you).

"W-who are you?" a dazed Stein mutters as he stares up at me in confusion, the small cut across his temple still flowing with blood, even as his cranium starts to expand a bit.

"I'm the guy who's getting you out of here." I state, a modulator in my helmet making my voice unrecognizable and suitably intimidating.

"What? I… I don't understand…" Stein mutters, though I get the impression he's talking more to himself than to me.

Not wasting any time, I reached over and hauled the man to his feet, ignoring his wince as I jostle some of his probably broken ribs.

"We need to get moving. Where's Banner's blood? The Army is everywhere and S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Black Widow are on their way, and when they get here, they're gonna arrest you, and destroy the blood."

At that I finally managed to get his attention, wild eyes settling frantically on my blank facemask.

"No… No! They can't have it! It's mine! Mine! I can do so much with it, so much _more_ … you must save it!"

Grabbing the frantic scientist by his shoulders I forced him to stand still, using my larger frame to loom over him, making him stop his rambling.

"I will save the blood _and_ I'll save you. You can't work on the blood when you're in prison can you?" I rumble, trying to sooth the confused scientist, who gives an agreeing nod at my words.

"So, here's what's going to happen. You'll lead me to the blood. I bag everything in sight. I'll take you to my safehouse, where we'll lie low so we can avoid S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Army. In my safehouse, you'll be able to expirement all you want. I want that blood, Stein. What Blonsky and Banner have? I want that too."

At the mention of expirementing, Stein's frantic eyes lighted up with a mad gleam, and he visibly tried to straighten himself despite his injuries and quite frankly ridiculous oversized head.

"Right. Follow me."

* * *

There were a few army grunts still around, but most of the attention was focused on Blonsky, who was cutting a swath of death and explosions through them, laughing like a maniac all the time.

As we reached the lab where Stein kept the gamma-blood, three soldiers burst through the double doors on the other end of the hallway, immediately raising their rifles in my direction, the death of their comrades clearly putting them on high alert.

Pushing my trusty duffelbag in Stein's hands I shoved him towards where the bloodbags were hanging, not taking my eyes off the soldiers, who were predictably shouting orders at me to get on the floor, hoping that their raised voices masked their fear (it didn't).

"Everything you think you need, put it in the bag. Leave the rest. _Now_."

At my growled command, made more pressing by the modulator in my helmet, Stein gives a quick nod (making his oversized head bob precariously on his neck) before he starts shoving bloodbags and notebooks into the duffelbag.

This clearly upsets the army grunts, as they now started moving closer towards me, their shouting increasing even as they train their peashooters on my still form.

Right, let's see what this baby can do.

Steadily walking towards them apparently freaked them out, as one lost control over her triggerfinger and opened fire on me. Now, even safely entombed within one of the most advanced DIY-armors in the world, I couldn't quite stop the knee-jerk reaction to flinch before the bright flashes and thunderous gunshots (which was thankfully hidden by my solid faceplate).

But other than what felt like a kid throwing pebbles against my armor, I didn't feel anything from the gunfire (though the paint-job was absolutely ruined) and before I consciously knew what I was doing, I was sprinting down the hallway in my armor that weighed in at just a little more than half a tone, cracking the floor underneath my feet as I went.

One of the soldiers completely froze up when I ran at her, and instead of dodging like her colleagues did, instinctively hunkered down and started emptying her clip into my approaching form.

Other than sparks flying across my armored plates I didn't show any sign of noticing the spray of bullets (though Stein dived underneath his desk with an undignified squak of fear) and before either of us knew it, I was upon her.

Now, like I said, my armor was more than half a ton, while the hallway was about thirty feet long. As a result, I had built up quite a momentum.

More momentum than I could handle in fact.

Before I even knew what had happened, before I had been able to turn, or slow down, or do anything really, I had trampled the soldier into the floor underneath my feet.

It was a grisly sight, and it shocked both me and the remaining soldiers into silence. The soldier on my right showed his greater experience though, by snapping out of it first, a hand flying immediately to the radio on his shoulder.

Unfortunaley, the sudden movement made me lash out on instinct, and before the grunt had managed to call into his radio, my fist slammed into his chest, sending him crashing into the wall, denting it far enough that he actually stuck there.

He wasn't dead, as he wore body armor, but he was out for the count for now, so I immediately turned towards the last soldier-

 _SMACK!_

-only to get the butt of a riffle slammed into my armored chin, making my head tilt slightly upwards. Stunned by surprise, both me and the soldier stood frozen on the spot, before I pushed my chin (and the rifle) back down, fixing the army grunt with a glare through my solid faceplate.

I had to give the guy credit though, because after swallowing his nervousness, he dropped the rifle in favour of unsheathing a combat knife and bringing it towards my midriff in one smooth movement.

I caught the knife by the handle in one armored glove, and used my other to shove him in the chest, sending him sprawling into the other wall, forcing him to let go of the knife.

Acting on instinct, I flipped the knife, and before the dazed soldier had a chance to right himself, or even bring up a guard of some kind, I slammed the weapon straight into the base of his neck.

Blood spurts out from the wound, splashing across my armor as I stare in mute horror as the man lets out a wet gurgle which will haunt my nightmares for days to come as he slides to the floor.

Still in a daze, I heard a gasp and a curse, before a gunshot rings out and I feel something ping off the back of my helmet. Turning around (getting another shot to the face) I see the other soldier, one hand grasping his chest and fractured ribcage, the other holding a hand gun, which he is emptying on me with a murderous expression on his face.

Ignoring the bullets (I barely register them. In fact, I'm barely registering anything at all right now) I walked towards him and punched him in the face.

Boxers wear gloves, yet still manage to occasionally kill one another when in the ring by an (un)lucky blow to the head.

I was wearing something a bit more dangerous than boxing gloves.

My punch shatteres his nose and cheekbones, sending shard of bone into his brains even as his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, while his upper jaw looses all it's front teeth.

I nearly hurl inside my helmet, the only thing keeping me from doing so is the fact that that would be utterly disgusting and the gunfire, explosions and occasional roars coming from outside the building.

Right, I'm on a schedule here.

I turned towards Stein and his lab, trying (and failing) to put the soldiers out of my mind as I approached the mutated scientist, who was running around with a frantic grin on his misshapen face.

"You got everything?" I ask harshly, grateful the modifier keeps any tremors from showing through my voice.

Stein looked from the lab to the overstuffed duffelbag with a forlorn expression on his misshapen face, before giving a sigh and a nod. It's clear he wanted to take more of his work with him (and I'm sort of on his side on this, as the more research he can take with him, the less time it takes for him to make me superhuman) but the bag was bursting at the seams and he's clearly struggling with the weight.

Grabbing the bag with one hand, and him by the shoulder with the other, I marched him towards the rear-exit of the building. I don't know where S.H.I.E.L.D. is and I'm not willing to stick around to try and find out. Ross and his army are currently focused on the 10 feet tall monster who is ripping apart the neighbourhood and his men with equal glee.

In other words; it's time to get the hell out of here.

Thankfully we met no more soldiers on our way out (though we did spot the odd terrified looking College student hunkered down underneath desks and the like) and we burst through a service corridor to the outside world without anyone the wiser.

We quickly made our way over to my van which was parked right in front of the corridor (memorizing floorplans for the win!), me getting in the back, while Stein takes the wheel and we peel away from the scene of destruction.

I absent-mindedly gave Stein directions to where I parked my car, and once we get there we quickly dumped the van (I pause to make sure nothing can be traced back to me, the fake id is already destroyed and I vigourously wipe down everything Stein had touched so he won't leave any prints) and we get in my Honda, the duffelbag in the trunk, me in the backseat and the scientist once again behind the wheel.

As we made our way towards my storage unit/secret lair, I kept thinking back to the three soldiers I killed.

I knew, on an intellectual level, that becoming a god wouldn't be without sacrifices or collateral damage, but I hadn't expected it to be so soon in my plan or so… up close and personal.

Closing my eyes, trying to ignore the wet sound of the knife entering the soldiers throat, I went over my thoughts about killing three humans in the span of a minute.

Did I feel guilty? Oddly enough, not as much as I thought I would. Yes, it was unfortunate that our confrontation had to end with their deaths, and if I could do the encounter over again I might handle things differently, but the fact of the matter was that my existence was hidden from the authorities for just a little longer, which was invaluable to the success of my plan.

So no, I didn't feel guilty for killing those soldiers. What I did feel, was anger. Anger at Ross, who couldn't leave well enough alone, a man who was powerhungry enough that he was willing to waste lives and millions of dollars of equipment hunting down a man who above all else just wanted to be left alone, in order to make his own army of monsters.

The deaths of those three soldiers?

They were on him.

The equipment destroyed by the Hulk?

That was on him.

The deaths caused by Blonsky even now?

All of it was on him.

Opening my eyes again, I now no longer felt any queasiness, feeling only determination instead. I have no doubt that the images of the mangled bodies of those nameless grunts will haunt my dreams for the coming nights, but now I know what I'm going to do about it.

Step 4: Ruin Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross' life.

I'm looking forward to this one.

* * *

"I'm gonna need a what now?"

"A primer. The gammapulse which triggers the change comes from the amygdala. The primer created by Dr. Ross allows those cells to temporarily absorb that energy, which makes sure you don't die of radiation poisoning. I don't have that primer, so if I just inject you now, you'll most likely die of the gamma energy inside Dr. Banner's blood, not just the blood itself." Stein rambled at me in excitement, waving his hands in front of a whiteboard I had hung up on one of the walls inside my storage unit.

It has been less than a week since the fight between the Abomination and the Hulk, and during that time both Stein and I have been busy. While I was eager for some of the power of Banner's alter ego I had watched enough movies to know that just injecting some of the blood into my body could only end badly.

So I had controlled my impulse and allowed the scientist to set up as much equipment as he could fit inside the now cramped storage unit and would need to turn me superhuman. It was extremely basic, but thankfully Stein's massively increased intellect found ingenious ways around that, though that didn't stop him from pestering me to find him more and more expensive equipment.

While trying to find a middle-ground with the mutated scientist (yes, I understood that without proper equipment and tests I might die horribly, no, I wasn't going to get him the materials he needed to create a hadron collider) I spent my time executing Step 4.

My armor had cams on it, so I uploaded the footage of that night (minus my fight with the soldiers) to show all of the death and destruction Ross' ambitions had wrought, going back to Harlem during the week with hidden camera's to add to the story (it's much harder to hide the ugliness of the truth in broad daylight).

While I had the public on my side (basically all of Harlem had taken up arms against the U.S. Army and the top brass especially) it quickly became clear to me that Ross was protected, most likely by S.H.I.E.L.D. on orders of the World Security Council, as those assholes seemed to determined to do everything they could to make the world a worse place.

Surprisingly, I managed to get Tony Stark on my side, who was most likely still smarting over the Army taking away his armor and turning it into their own plaything, only to screw up and loose control, causing wanton death and destruction (again), while for Stark the armor was a symbol of him pulling out of the Merchant of Death persona and all of its horrible concequences.

To say he was angry was like stating that Antartica might be a bit chilly this time of year.

Public opinion kept the ineptitude of Ross in the news, while Stark's lawyers started digging up every single code violation the obsessed general had committed (of which there were many). Ross was still in position, but rumours began to float around that his backers were concidering that defending him was more trouble than it was worth, especially when it came to light he had abused whatever little of the Super Soldier serum they still had, wich meant their only source of unlocking the power of the Hulk was now inside Blonsky, and everybody was wary about involving him, even the idiotic WSC.

Guess survival-instinct overrules a lack of common sense.

So, Ross would soon be on his way out if Tony got his way (which he always did) but that still left me stuck in a storage unit with a somewhat unstable scientist and apparently no way to currently survive enhancing myself with mighty Hulk-blood.

"You survived his blood, didn't you?" I ask Stein, my voice still modulated by my helmet which I wore everytime I went by the storage unit to get an update on his progress and to continue my war on Thaddeus Ross.

"Yes, and while utterly fascinating, I don't think _this_ is what you're going for, am I right?" Stein replies with a grin, pointing at his massive cranium.

While it gave him an immense boost to his intellect and memory ("I can recall every paper I ever graded!") he was correct that I wasn't really aiming to get his look as well, concidering the fact that he looked… well, to be honest, he looked grotesque.

Stein himself however could not be happier with his new image, and everytime he wasn't setting up his equipment, or testing the gamma-blood to see if I could incorporate it, he was experimenting on himself, trying to see just what had happened to him.

Making a face underneath my helmet (which of course he couldn't see) I replied to the enhanced scientist in my teched out shed.

"So what do you need to make your primer? Or anything really that would keep me alive?"

At this, Stein let's out a massive grin, nearly bouncing on his toes in excitement.

"Aha! That's why I called you here today! I wanted to wait until everything was ready, but I just couldn't contain myself anymore. Besides, I finally have all the equipment to do some _real_ work on this!" he babbles as he nearly skips his way towards one of the many coolboxes stacked inside the storage unit (one of the many reasons why it had become so cramped. I had to rent another unit just for storing all the disassembled parts of the drones that I hadn't incorporated into my armor).

Before I could ask what exactly _this_ is, he fished something out of the coolbox he had been rummaging in, turning around and holding it aloft with a flourish and a proud grin on his face.

"Tadaa!"

It was a vial, filled with a reddish liquid. I squinted at it, before giving up.

"Allright, I'll bite. What am I looking at?"

"This, my friend, is a bit of Blonsky's blood before I administered Dr. Banner's blood to him. I didn't know what he had already put inside himself, so I managed to get a bloodsample from him, before starting the procedure. Now I can finally figure out what had already enhanced him and then I can give it to you as well!"

At that I straighten in shock, clearly taking Stein off guard. I on the other hand have completely forgotten about the mad scientist as I stare at the innocent looking vial in awe.

"The super-soldier serum…" I whisper, though clearly Stein has heared me, since he is now looking at the vial in a mix of awe and excitement as well.

"Really? Oh, I had hoped it would be something exiting, but this… Erskine is said to have been a genius unmatched even by our generation… This is going to be incredible!" Stein gushes and I can't help it, I start laughing alongside him.

"Well done doctor. Let's see what mysteries we can uncover, shall we?"

And with that, we both committed ourselves to the task of unravelling Emil Blonsky's blood.

The completion of Step 3 came closer and closer.

* * *

While our enthousiasm didn't diminish, it turned out that cracking a supelsodier's chemical and genetic make-up was surprisingly difficult, especially when done with subpar machines in a storage unit.

Still, progress was made, though in slow increments. This did give me the opportunity to give my attention to the completion of Step 4 as well. Somone within the Army, perhaps one of the scientists, had blabbed, and Blonsky's mission in Rio in pursuit of the Hulk on Ross' orders had leaked.

It sparked an international shitstorm, with even representatives of the soda-factory Banner had worked at knocking on the door of the Pentagon, asking for reparations as the blame for all the damages were laid solely at Ross' feet.

Top brass at the Army felt this was getting out of hand, and branded the operation on foreign soil as unsanctioned and of Ross' own initiative, effectively getting themselves the hell out of dodge.

I didn't care about them however, I only wanted Ross and this had given both me and Stark the perfect opportunity. Because, as of right now, General Ross was effectively a rogue element within the U.S. Army.

Stark's army of laywers were quick to find the pressure spots within the Army's hierarchie, finding soldiers, officers and families of soldiers alike who would benefit of Ross being forced down a peg or two, either for emotional reasons or for career advancement.

The General's position within the Army began to rapidly to destabilize as he lost more and more of his support base, since very few of the people underneath him were all that happy with carrying out operations on American soil, only to get cut down by a monster who turned out to be someone Ross had originally brought on board in the first place.

It seemed extremely likely that he would be shipped off to some remote outpost in the middle of nowhere, stripped of rank and any career possibilities, but then came the final blow that ended his position within the Army for good.

Surprisingly, it didn't come from me or the crowd I had been whipping up, or even Stark's army of lawyers, but from Betty Ross.

If General Thunderbolt had a single redeeming quality, it was that he cared about his daughter.

Ironically that became his undoing.

Betty went on public record, reveiling everything that her father had done from the moment he had approached Banner on creating the next supersoldier to sending men towards their death against Blonsky. Most notably however, was that she revealed that despite being an accomplice to Banner (by Ross labelled as a bio-terrorist, but that was thrown into question by Betty's confessions) she hadn't been arrested as he had, on the grounds of being Ross' daughter.

It was more than the Army could ignore, and when the WSC decided that they didn't need Ross anymore as the Abomination was in their custody already, so they could create supersoldiers on their own, there was nobody who could (or even wanted to) save the General's position.

On June 9th, 2011, General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross was dishonourably discharged from the United States Military, thanks in large part by the efforts of his own daughter, who was now protected from the Army who wanted her hide for spilling their secrets by Tony Stark himself, and had begun working at Stark Tower as part of a scientific team doing research into clean energy.

Step 4: Complete.

* * *

The cold metal of the gurney was uncomfortable against my bare skin, while the various electrodes placed on my torso were itching like mad. I tried to keep my breathing even, but I couldn't quite contain a quiet panic from strangling my lungs.

There was a not-insignificant chance I could die from this, and even if I were to survive, I might end up looking horribly mutated or worse, I might even loose my mind like Blonsky did.

But I had come too far to turn back now. Too many plans already set in motion to chicken out now. I had no choice but go through with this and hope for the best.

Give me omnipotence, or give me death! (Though I'd much rather you not give me death, please, thank you)

"Are you ready?" came the exited voice of Samuel Stein, massive machines surrounding him and me, while he was holding a _very_ large needle in his hands.

"I'm ready." I replied, trying to mask my nervousness, cursing that I didn't have my helmet on so my voice would be modulated to its gravelly, intimidating version of itself.

Giving a happy nod, Stein bounced over to where I was strapped down on the gurney, needle poised over the veins in my arm before he hesitated, glancing at me from underneath his massive cranium.

"What?" I grunt out, wanting him to get it over with and not just stand there with that large needle (that very, oh so very large needle) hovering over my veins.

"It's nothing! Well, it's just that… well, I hadn't expected for you to be so _young_."

Lifting my head a bit from the gurney, I raise an eyebrow at him in surprise. I was in my mid-twenties, that wasn't that young, was it? Then again, it might be somewhat on the youthful side in the 'advanced technology thief and scavenger' business.

I wouldn't know, I had yet to meet someone in my line of work.

We were an exclusive bunch, you know?

Rolling my eyes, I motioned the scientist to just get on with it, not trusting my voice at the moment. Giving an embarrassed nod, Stein quickly prepped my arm before lining up the needle with the serum that had enhanced Blonsky and-

"MOTHERFU-"

Oh God. Oh God, that _fucking_ hurt! I was surprised I didn't have a massive hole in my arm from the size of the metal that Stein had just basically shived me with.

"Right Mr. McCole, I need you to try and stay calm if you could please. Unfortunately, the pain is just about to begin, I'm afraid."

And with those words, Stein hitched me up to an IV of Banner's blood as Blonsky's serum ran its course through my veins. Already I could feel the changes coming over me.

How could I tell, you ask?

Well, feeling like every single bone in your body is broken in half, then put back together again by a toddler with no idea what he was doing, but with superstrength, a sunny disposition and heaps of duct tape, tended to clue you in on such things.

Over, and over, and _over_ again.

I'd like to say that I remained strong throughout it all. That I had remained the picture of stoic determination, or even that I roared in such pain it rattled the storage unit, or something else that sounded heroic and awesome.

Truth was, I bawled like a baby.

By the first hour I was screaming so much that I probably damaged my throat.

By the second hour I was sobbing openly, my vision blurry from the pain and the tears that streaked down my face.

I'm pretty sure that by the third hour I was begging. Either for my mother or for death I can't quite recall, I was pretty out of it by then.

By the fourth hour I finally fell unconscious (though Stein later told me that even unconscious I kept on screaming when the serums started working on my spine).

When I woke up, the sun had already set and come back up again (though I couldn't tell as my storage unit didn't have any windows) and I felt sore from my scalp to my toes, while my throat felt like someone hadn't been able to decide wether to pour a bucket of sand, or a bucket of crushed glass down my throat and had just given up and decided on both.

My groan woke up Stein, who was snoring in what seemed to be a ridiculously uncomfortable position at our desk, his oversized head snapping up from where it had been lying on the keyboard, taking a few of the letters with it as he blearily blinked around.

Upon seeing me awake, his eyes snapped open and now completely alert he nearly vaulted over the desk, quickly beginning to check my vitals, while prattling against me, my head (feeling like it was stuffed with cotton) only picking up about half of his words.

"Hey there champ, how are you feeling? What am I saying, you probably feel like crap right now. Let me tell you, it was… harrowing, seeing you scream and thrash about on the table as you were. I guess this confirms our guess that modifying the serum to affect the subject in a more natural manner over a longer period of time will also be more painful. But I think we made the right choice there, since…. Since it worked…" Stein trailed off in an awed whisper, those last words finally snapping me out of my dazed state.

"What did you say?" I bark, quickly sitting up on the gurney, my hearing picking up an odd snapping sound, though I ignored it for now in favour of staring intently at the Doctor, who is alternatively gazing at me to the screens and back at me again in wonder.

"It worked." He breathes again, this time pointing at my waist.

Looking down in confusion, I can't help a small gasp escape me. Because around my waist, wrists and ankles are the ruined remains of the belts that had managed to secure me tightly to the table before I had the procedure.

My body had visibly changed as well. I didn't have the thick, hulking bodytype like the Abomination, Thanos and Hulk had, but I was definetly bigger than Steve had become after his procedure.

I looked like the Rock's bigger, meaner brother.

If he had been born in Chernobyl, that is.

I knew that mutations were very likely, given what Banner's blood had done to Stein and Blonsky, but it still took me off guard to actually see them.

Like the Abomination, I had a sort of "raised" skeleton. Despite being packed with big bulging muscles (I had abs! And pecs!) my spine and ribcage still visibly showed up, though thankfully my legs hadn't become digirtrade like Blonsky's had become.

Gently stepping of the gurney (trying to ignore a flash of pain as I did so) I realized that, as my head nearly touched the ceiling, that not only had I lost all of my hair, I was also really tall, Stein with his overly large head only reaching my chest, while at the shoulders I was twice as broad.

Forget what I said about the Rock, I was roughly the size of the Mountain that Rides, if the Mountain had the muscle definition of Arnie in his golden days and with a ridged spine jutting from his back.

As I flex my biceps (I have biceps now!) I can just _feel_ the power coursing through my muscles, Stein looking on in amazement.

Wanting to test something, I walk towards one of my workbenches that lined the wall of the storage unit, picking up one of the metal plates that I had stripped from the Hammer drones. Grasping it firmly between my massive hands, I grunt in exertion, my muscles swelling with strength, before with a groan of tortured metal, the plate in my hands folds neatly in half.

Stein's mouth drops open in amazement, before he lets out a loud laugh, clapping his hands in excitement.

"Now, how are you feeling my friend? Not having any… destructive urges, do you?" Stein asked, getting a bit more serious (no doubt recalling what happened to him when he preformed this procedure the last time) though he still can't quite contain the glint of excitement in his eyes.

I turned back towards him, once more caught off guard at how _small_ he (and everything else really) looks now, before giving him an assuring grin.

"I'm feeling fine Doctor. It's still me… just _better_." I reply, only now noticing that my voice had dropped down in pitch to a rumbling bass that would feel right at home in te company of the likes of Louis Armstrong or James Earl Jones.

The urge to test my strength is there, that urge for something or someone to challenge my power only to receive the worst smackdown of their lives, but I recognize that it's there and surpress it. I'm still in control.

Flexing my arm once again, looking down at my towering body with its massive frame and pronounced skeleton, I can't help it: I finally unleash my proper diabolical laugh, Stein joining in with me.

"BWAHAHAHAHAAHAH!"

As we come down from the high of our success, still chuckling and marvelling at the towering ode to strength that my body has become, I can't help but let out a savage grin, unknowingly showing off pointed, gleaming canines.

"Step 3: Complete."

* * *

 **AN:** Step 3 is a massive succes, while step 4 has been completed. Ross is still alive, but without any power or backers he won't be in a position to cause trouble later down the line. Best if I still kept an eye on him though, given the universe I'm in and the multitude of shadow organizations there are he might always show up again at the worst possible moment. Not on my watch.

 **Fun Fact:** Wolverine was originally intended to be a genetically mutated wolverine rather than a human mutant. Stan Lee himself vetoed the idea.


	3. Turning up the heat

_**Turning up the heat**_

* * *

Night has fallen over New York City, and I'm bent over one of my tool tables with my dissembled armour lying on front of me, a scowl on my face, one of my canines gleaming in the light provided by stolen Stark Expo lamps.

"I didn't think this through."

While my new body was absolutely amazing, and I still marvelled at the sheer strength now at my disposal every time I flexed one of my numerous bulging muscles, there were some unforeseen drawbacks.

Or rather, there were some drawbacks that I _should_ have foreseen.

The biggest one was that stealth was now significantly harder than it used to be.

While I might still be able to sneak around under the cover of night, ploys such as the one I used to infiltrate the Stark Expo were now completely out of the question, which was a bummer because that operation had been the most fruitful endeavour of my admittedly short career of a super thief/scavenger.

Another drawback was that I now no longer fitted in my armour.

The armour for which I had braved discovery by S.H.I.E.L.D., the armour for which I had stolen, lied and cheated my way around, adrenaline rampaging through my veins for months on end in order to get the parts I needed, the armour which I had made during countless sleepless nights, pouring over Stane's blueprints until my head hurt, trying to make sense of the advanced technology of this different universe.

And I no longer fitted inside.

Of course, it wasn't as if the possibility hadn't crossed my mind, but I had always brushed it off, simply thinking I'd pull my armour apart and build it bigger.

But I had forgotten to take into account the new size of my primary manipulators, otherwise known as hands. The Iron Man armour was filled to the brim with cutting-edge electronics and robotics, and all of it was smoothly hidden underneath the interlocking plates of the armour.

Where my hands now had difficulty reaching.

There were two minor lights in the crushing, all-consuming void of my despair (slight over exaggeration there): one, I had a hyper intelligent scientist on hand, though getting him away from his own projects in order to help me with rebuilding my armour was a herculean task of its own (I'm a geneticist, not an engineer! I have a degree!) and two, I found that I could ditch some of the electronics.

The Iron Man armour was so powerful, much of its inner workings were designed solely to keep its wearer safe from itself (the torso of the armour could technically rotate 180°, which the average human body could not). Much of this was focused around the servos, making sure they didn't rip a limb off whenever you lifted your arm, or in order to take its own weight so that the wearer wouldn't be crushed like in those 'Object vs. Steel press' that were becoming popular on YouTube these days.

This wasn't as much of a problem for me however (though I kept the function that would keep my torso from suddenly turning the wrong way as that seemed like a nasty way to go), which allowed me to strip much of the inner shells from the armour.

Ironically this ended up making the armour a lot lighter, which in return allowed me to strip even more as I could easily handle the weight of the armour, even after I enlarged the plating to fit over my body (as I was now about the same size as the Hammer drones this was made surprisingly easier than making my original armour had been, as I didn't have to resize the plating this time).

Tony's armour was as much cutting-edge technology as it was a piece of art. Stane's armour had a military, rough look to it. Vanko's original armour, the one in Monaco, had a prison-made appearance (in as much as you could call it "armour").

Mine somehow looked even uglier.

Thick plating across the torso and limbs, with a robust frame (one more reminiscent of the one used by Matt Damon in Elysium than anything Marvel-like), my armour looked like it was made from stolen materials and put together in a shed.

Which is exactly what it was.

However, it did have one major advantage over the other armours, as it had something that none of them had.

Me.

July had already turned into August by the time I finished rebuilding my armour, but when I put it on I couldn't quite contain my glee at the sight that greeted me from the cracked full-length mirror I had stolen during one of my nightly scavenger runs around the city (and I do mean runs: I didn't know my exact top speed, but I had managed to keep up with New York traffic easily, and cleared the spaces between buildings with a single bound. Parkour had become my bitch in the month since my transformation).

The armour, with its thick plating and rough framework, had a no-nonsense, utilitarian vibe to it on its own, but when strapped to my hulking, 7 feet tall frame, it became downright menacing, aided by the new helmet I wore, modelled after the one Crossbones wears during his brief fight with Cap in the Civil War-movie.

This armour, unlike the one I had worn when I had picked up Stein and Banner's blood, was filled to the brim with all the weapons I could fit on it, which included the Infantry tank gun and the Navy missiles from the Hammer drones.

In short?

I looked _Bad_. _Ass_.

But while it was extremely satisfying to see my finished armour after the months of blood, sweat and tears I had poured into rebuilding it, I was still stuck with one of the unforeseen drawbacks after my transformation, which brings us back to my brooding form as I sit at one of the worktables.

I had my transformation on the 12th of June 2011, only recovering on the 14th. The next Step would involve Loki's attack on Midgard. The problem however, was that that would only occur on May the 4th, 2012.

So what now?

I briefly contemplated killing Ulysses Klaue and taking his stash of Vibranium which he has squirreled away for some time now, but he's hiding somewhere in South-Africa, and is probably being watched.

Besides the logistics of actually getting my butt to South-Africa undetected, there's still the fact that even if I had Vibranium, I wouldn't know what to do with it.

I'm no metalworker and neither is Stein, so trying to make a new armour out of the miracle meteorite-metal is out of the question. I briefly entertained the notion of lining my bones with Vibranium, but I don't think my healing factor is strong enough to keep me alive through the operation (I can heal small cuts within a few hours, while a broken bone takes about a day, which I discovered by accidentally dropping the mostly intact Navy drone on my foot. Wolverine survived getting shot in the chest with a cannon during the Civil War and _he_ almost didn't make it through the bonding-process).

I could use the Kree-blood that S.H.I.E.L.D. has hidden away, as Hydra has proven that it can bestow humans with a sweet regeneration factor, but given that it is inside a secret base I don't even know where I should begin to go look for it.

Extremis on the other hand… Killian already has the formula, the only problem is that it has a chance of blowing up the recipient. I, however, am an already enhanced human with a (slight) healing factor, so I might survive the virus (which isn't a virus at all, but that's neither here nor there).

Then again, the two serums might also decide to not play nice with each other and blow me up, but thankfully, I have one of the foremost experts in human engineering right here in my storage unit.

Getting out of my funk, I straighten up and turn around on my chair, grinning as I call out to Stein who's hovering over a microscope, engrossed in his own experiments of trying to use whatever happened to his brain as the basis for a cure for Alzheimer's (if he suggests experimenting on monkeys I'll pull the plug. No Planet of the Apes for me, thankyouverymuch).

"Stein!" I rumble, my voice a deep bass that would probably be able to rattle windows should I yell at the top of my lungs (which I did when I dropped that Navy-drone, but as the storage unit didn't have any windows I couldn't tell. Scared the crap out of Stein though).

The aforementioned scientist looked up at me with a sigh, clearly annoyed at being once more pulled away from his own research, fixing me with an impatient glare.

"What is it Mr. McCole? I've introduced a reagent to the chemicals saturating my bloodstream and I should be able to see a reaction at any time now." Stein says hurriedly, as I stand up and with a few great strides cross the distance between our desks, placing my massive fists on either side of his microscope as I loom over the mutated scientist.

"How would you like to run tests on a serum which unlocks the hidden potential within the human genome?"

The answering grin is all the response I need.

* * *

Finding Killian is surprisingly easy: I just looked him up on LinkedIn.

Since AIM has yet to reveal that they're an evil organization, they are still very much in the open, with advertisements, contact info and they even have their own website (it's pretty sleek, to be honest). All of it is available to the public.

Except for where they are located.

A quick search gives me nothing, no home address for Killian, no locations of any headquarters, not even a shipping address. All contact is done through the internet, and when you manage to set up a meet, then one of them will come to you, not the other way around.

This complicates things somewhat.

I know that in November, one of Killian's test subjects (given that most of them are disabled veterans they might even be victims of Blonsky's rampage) will explode, and the media will label it as a suicide bombing, which Killian will enforce by "creating" the Mandarin in January of 2012 (still the dumbest reveal in MCU-history to date, really dropped the ball there Shawn Black, though I love your Lethal Weapon movie).

This gives me something of a window to try and track down Killian, but that is also more complicated than I'd like for it to be because of one very big problem.

We're running low on funds.

Much of the material for my armour I had managed to steal during my time working at the Expo and even afterwards, getting my hands on tools and the like had been rather straightforward.

Nothing about Stein's equipment could be called straightforward.

When I took him and the Hulk-blood, all that he had been able to put in the duffel bag was most of his research and the blood itself, and almost none of the equipment, as it was either too delicate or too massive to take with us.

During the few days of chaos after the fight between the Hulk and Abomination I had managed to sneak into the College a few times and take some of the smaller machines (thank whatever deity is willing to listen that I hadn't gotten rid of my janitor-disguise yet) but after clean-up had mostly been organized we had to find an alternative.

Like I said, Stein's massive intelligence managed to find some ways around our less than stellar equipment but he still needed something to work from, and despite the fact that both of us had withdrawn our lifesavings (in his case just in the nick of time, as his assets were frozen a few hours later) the equipment I had to buy for him was a massive drain on our monetary funds.

There was also the fact that due to our mutations (the brain is the most energy intensive organ in the human body and Stein's had just doubled in size, while I had almost doubled in size in general) we ate a lot.

Like, seriously a lot.

So, as it stood, I neither had the time nor the resources to sink into a wild goose chase for AIM and their exploding goodies.

After giving it a lot of thought (which included many sleepless nights simply staring at the ceiling above my bed while my legs from the calves down hung over the edge) I had a tentative course of action.

Step 5: Find a source of income that at the very least will keep me and Stein fed, and hopefully pay for the equipment we need.

Step 6: Track down AIM, or track down the subject which will explode in November, depending on which I find first.

Step 6a: In the case of finding AIM first, burst in, kill everyone that is trying to stop me, steal their research and serum and unleash the intellect of Stein on it, then inject myself with a version of Extremis that won't end with me as a new coat of paint on the walls, floor and ceiling.

Step 6b: In the case of finding the "suicide bomber" first, find a way to either subdue him, or get a piece of him to bring back to Stein, let him try and reverse-engineer it and then inject myself with a version of Extremis that won't end with me as a new coat of paint on the walls, floor and ceiling.

I was really hung up on that last bit, finding it crucial to my plans.

Stein was less concerned about it.

* * *

It was the first week of October, when, while I was perched on the roof of one of the high-rises in Manhattan, trying to scout out the building that at one point would be the headquarters for one Wilson Fisk (what? He had money, I had none, this was as close as I could get to being Robin Hood), I had an epiphany which struck me with enough force that I nearly lost my footing.

On the one hand, I had Killian, who was trying to unlock the dormant parts of the human genome (probably courtesy of the Celestials, but honestly who could tell?) in order to promote massive regeneration, while trying to keep his test subjects from blowing up.

On the other hand, I had Stein, who was trying to reverse-engineer whatever process his brain had gone through in order to find a cure for Alzheimer's, while trying to keep his test subjects from rising up in a revolution against all humans.

Killian had money to spare.

Stein (and by extension, me) were struggling with funding.

And just like that, the solution to both Step 5 and Step 6 presented itself to me.

* * *

"Hello? Yes, this is Michael McCole from McCole Solutions speaking. I was wondering if I might speak with Dr. Killian please? Yes, I'll hold."

I'm once again on the roof of the high rise looking out over Wilson Fisk's headquarters (still haven't seen him yet, so I don't know whether or not he is in New York already, though I know he becomes active somewhere in 2014), my booted feet dangling over the edge as I wait patiently with a burner phone against my ear.

Suddenly the cheerful tune I had been listening to ends, and a voice that can only be described as oily worms its way into my ear.

"Ah, Mister… McCole. How intriguing to get a call from you at such an hour. What can I do for you?" Aldrich Killian, founder of AIM and the mcu-villain with the weirdest name (given that some of those villains are aliens, that's saying something) murmurs through the phone.

"Greetings, Dr. Killian. ('Greetings'? 'Greetings'?! What's next brain, 'Salutations on this fine morrow to you as well'?!) I was hoping to discuss a business proposition with you."

A short silence falls between us, while a few errant birds coursing along the New York City skyline look at me in confusion.

"I must confess, I get many business propositions these days. Why should I concern myself with yours, considering you claim to own a business which doesn't exist?"

Found that out did you? No matter, the front was never meant to stand up to intense scrutiny, it just had to appear real enough to warrant me an audience with the guy behind the "Mandarin".

"Because technically, I don't exist either, Dr. Killian."

That I can tell gets his attention. It's not true of course, since there are a few records of me, but considering I woke up in this universe in an orphanage with nobody knowing who had left me there, my documents were rather bare, and easily altered once I left.

"Me and my associate know about the research you have been doing Dr. Killian. While others might find your subject somewhat… explosive, we consider ourselves fans of your work." I quickly press on, though I know I'm treading on dangerous ground by tipping him off to the fact I know about Extremis.

This time the pause is longer and when he speaks again, the smooth oiliness is gone from his voice, instead replaced by a barely contained fury.

"What do you want, Mr. McCole. I find myself getting impatient."

"I believe we can help you stabilize it."

"And why should I trust your claim? I have never heard of you _or_ your organization, and I have no clue how you came by any information regarding my own… research."

"But I bet you've heard about Erskine and his super soldier formula. And I'm willing to bet you've heard about the Abomination which ravaged Harlem."

Again there's silence on the line, longer than all the others combined and I'm beginning to worry that I chased him off, that I might have pressed too hard-

"You have Erskine's formula?" he breathes into my ear in excitement, making me feel dirty enough I briefly take the phone away from my head with an expression of disgust on my face before I reply.

"We've cracked it, Doctor. We have managed to recreate Erskine's masterpiece. But I'm afraid that in doing so we have nearly exhausted our meagre funds. Which is why we were hoping to approach you with our offer. You see-"

"So, this about money then?" Killian cuts me off (rude!) before continuing, arrogance and disdain easily showing through his voice.

"Never mind, of course it is, it always is. You have some of the original sample left, I hope? Your offer is useless to me if I first have to unravel whatever botched experiments you have performed with Erskine's miracle."

That gets a rise out of me (probably his intention in the first place I later reflect) and I reply in my coolest voice, trying to get across that I'm not someone he should try and mess with.

"I assure you, Doctor, that merely because we require more funds, does not make us any less competent scientists (Technically I wasn't a scientist, so there's hardly a way for my competence to decrease). We wished to approach you because you possess money while lacking morals, but there are other such organizations out there who would kill in order to fund us, especially considering we possess a live specimen, fully enhanced by Erskine's formula, whose physical traits outstrip anything on record about Erskine's first, and only, subject: Captain America."

Once again his voice returns to one of breathy excitement, making disgust roil through my stomach.

"You possess a live enhanced subject?"

"Dr. Killian, you are speaking with him right now." I cannot help but grin.

Sure, I'd rather not have revealed that we had a super soldier on our side, as it was likely to make him warier of me and decide to bring more muscle to our meet, but at least this way I was absolutely guaranteed that he would agree to a meet in the first place.

I can almost hear Killian salivating on the other end of the phone, before he manages to give his reply in a smooth voice, though I can still pick up the sheer excitement the man is feeling right now.

"Meet me at the Red Hook Marine Terminal in the New York harbour, this Friday at seven. We'll discuss any further business ventures there. Don't be late."

And with that, the Mandarin hung up on me.

With a savage grin, I rip the phone to shreds with my bare hands, before letting the pieces scatter on the wind. With a slight grunt, I get to my feet, before making my way down the high-rise, jumping from one ledge to the other, my superhuman body easily absorbing the shocks of my 10-feet drops.

As I'm descending, I open up a secure channel on my earpiece.

"Ah, hi there Mr. McCole. What's up?" I hear the cheerful voice of Stein, who has been in a good mood ever since I managed to get him a centrifuge for his experiments (bought for cheap at a lawn sale, of all things).

I'm about to make his mood even better.

"Stein? He fell for it."

Slightly manic laughter is all the response I get.

* * *

"So why are you up on one of the warehouses instead of where you said you were going to meet with Dr. Killian?" Stein asks me over my earpiece, as the visor in my new helmet zooms in on the walkways between the story high mountains of containers that line the pier.

"Because, Stein, he's going to betray me." I absent-mindedly answer him, trying to keep a lookout for any suspicious activity (considering this were the docks of New York and I knew absolutely nothing about shipping of any kind, this included just about everything).

"Oh. How do you know that?"

"Because if he wasn't planning on betraying me, we wouldn't be having a meeting at the docks. He would've wanted to meet at a restaurant or club or something else high-end and fancy."

"I see. Then what are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna betray him first, of course."

"Right. Of course."

And with that, our conversation is put on hold, because I spot three black sedans with blacked out windows slowly drive up the pier in an orderly column.

Now, if I were a villain, I would show up with my own crew, have some veiled dialogue with Killian that would hint at higher machinations before he would reveal his intent to betray me, upon which I would unveil my plans to betray him in return.

If I were some masked vigilante on the other hand, I would stay up here, trying to listen in on Killian as he would meet with another villain, until I (or rather, my sidekick) would inevitably screw something up, leading to our discovery, which would lead to either me kicking my way to freedom or being captured and tied up waiting for rescue by my allies.

If I were a hero of this cinematic universe, I would go in with a funny quip, and beat everybody up in an awesome choreographed display of action with generously applied slow-motion at key moments (me jumping, me scowling, me punching someone, you get the drill), after which someone from S.H.I.E.L.D. would show up in the stinger with some ominous message that would be the hook for my next adventure.

Unfortunately for Killian, I was none of these things.

Taking aim at the centre car, my Infantry tank gun swoops low, takes aim at its target and unleashes hell.

Unlike Hollywood would want you to believe, cars don't regularly explode at the slightest hint of damage, and even in the most extreme cases will simply go up in flames rather than explode.

Under my tank gun, created by Ivan Vanko, placed onto a platform designed by Tony Stark and weaponized by Obadiah Stane?

The car ended up _shredded_.

I didn't bother holding back on my lethality, since I was counting on Killian bringing some of his Extremis subjects with him after knowing that I was a super soldier of Steven Roger's calibre (even seventy years after he went under the ice, he's still held as the pinnacle of what a soldier could achieve).

Given the extreme regeneration Extremis allowed, I could simply blow this pier to bits and still expect at least some of the subjects to be alive. Even if they didn't there probably would be enough of them left intact for Stein to work with.

I'm proven correct when one of the doors is kicked straight off the car, a glowing and smoking form falling out of the mangled remains of the vehicle. I'm surprised to see that it's Killian himself as I had half suspected he might not even show up to the meet in person.

Seems that the possibility of seeing a real-life Erskine enhanced human made him forgo his cautiousness.

About a dozen men and women in tactical gear pour out of the remaining cars and rush towards the downed Killian, who despite being alive is clearly very much hurt as he is unable to stand on his own and he remains bent almost double, holding both arms (or what's left of them anyway) pressed against his abdomen which is sporting more holes than is medically advised.

Let's keep it that way, shall we?

Just as the first of Killians' security team reaches him, hand outstretched to take him by the arm and drag him to safety, I unleash the shoulder-mounted guided missiles taken from the Navy model, which slam into the car column in a series of deafening explosions, which shakes the entire pier down to its foundations.

By the time the dust settles, only Killian himself (who looks even worse off now) and three others remain alive (one of them only in a technical sense as they now only have one limb attached to their torso).

Wanting to get this over with, I activate the repulsors in the legs of my armour and take off in a graceful arc, landing in the classic superhero pose (I'm sorry, I couldn't help it, it just _feels_ awesome, you know?) on the edge of the scene of destruction (the residual heat of the explosions, not the mention what the Extremis enhanced humans are giving off, is too hot for me to handle right now) and take aim with my wrist mounted machine gun (courtesy of the Air Force model) at one of the men still standing.

While he sees me aiming at him, he's obviously still dazed from the explosions (there's blood running out from both ears and his nose and his eyes don't focus on anything) and he makes a stumbling half-step before my bullets tear into him, slamming him against the burned out husk of one of the cars.

With his torso a bloody mess and with half of his head gone, I'm confident he's finally dead, so I turn my machine gun on the other one-

 _CRASH!_

"TAKE THAT YOU BASTARD!"

-only to apparently have miscalculated the time it took for her to recover, as made clear to me by her running up to me, grabbing my arm and crushing the armour underneath her glowing hands.

I can already feel my arm starting to burn due to the frankly amazing amount of heat that is pouring off the woman's hands, so I quickly slam the armoured fist on my free arm straight into her midriff, lifting her off her feet and sending her hurling across the melted asphalt of the pier and into one of the car wrecks, her hands ripping away some of the plating as she goes flying.

Not underestimating her again I take aim with the coil laser in my undamaged arm salvaged from the Navy model and open fire-

 _SLAM!_

-only to get a mangled car door thrown into my face with such force it cracks my helmet.

She hasn't gotten away unscathed however, as she is now missing everything below the elbow on her left arm. Seeing that clearly triggers something within her, because she lets out a grief-filled howl of pain, before charging at me like a wild animal.

Unable to use most of my weaponry at such a close range, I instead shift my arm from her to the stumbling form of Killian (Extremis is truly amazing, since apparently the massive holes in his abdomen have already scabbed over) and nail him in the back of his knees, nearly blowing one of his legs clean off.

And then I have to focus on the woman again as she slams into me, making me stagger despite my near tonne of weight, before she kicks me in the stomach with enough force that flame bursts from the impact.

Had I still been a baseline human, then that blow would've probably finished me then and there, armour or no armour.

As it is, I immediately retaliate by kneeing her in the chest, feeling some of her ribs snap under my mighty blow (though the heat nearly scorches my skin and I can _hear_ her bones setting themselves).

In her berserker rage the woman doesn't even seem to notice the grievous injury, and instead unleashes a flurry of blows with her feet and one remaining arm. Due to her lithe form and greater speed I am forced to block most blows instead of dodging them and the longer her attack goes on, the hotter it's getting, several parts of my armour taking on the dangerous dull glow of metal that's getting heated.

While her rage has put me on the back foot, it has also given me an advantage. With how much heat she's giving off, striking me is far less effective than if she were to try and grapple with me, since then heat-transfer would be much easier and she could just cook me inside my armour.

Of course, the moment I think that, things are starting to go wrong.

As I give a punch of my own, the woman manages to dodge, grab the arm with her remaining hand, place a foot on one of my knees and pushes off, pulling herself up over me-

"BURN ASSHOLE! BURN!"

-and just like that, she had both legs wrapped around my neck, where my armour is thinnest.

Already I can feel my skin burning, while the delicate electronics in my suit are starting to short out. I'm panicking at this point, and in desperation I reach up, grabbing her in her sides hard enough to actually dig my armoured fingers into her flesh (and getting my hands burned because of it) before I slam her with all my might into the ground hard enough to leave a crater.

Even though I heard her pelvis and ribs breaking, she doesn't loosen her grip and the healing only seems to increase the heat even more.

I'm getting desperate, especially since I can feel my thoughts starting to dim despite the incredible amount of pain that I'm in. I need to get her off before she literally melts my brain. Unfortunately, I'm too far gone to really have a plan (I just rear up and slam her down again, and even though she gives out a scream of pain she doesn't let up) so I let my fight-or-flight instinct kick in.

My body is clearly faster on the uptake than I am, since it immediately decides that since fighting hasn't worked, flight is the course of valour (or maybe not valour but at least survival, which is far more important than valour anyway) and before I really know what I'm doing I've activated the repulsors in my legs and back and take off with a blast that almost dislodges the mad women lodged around my throat.

Almost, but almost isn't good enough.

Slamming into (and almost straight through) one of the thick pillars of the cranes standing on the pier turns out to do the trick though.

Probably because I could hear her spine turn to splinters this time.

Extracting myself from her broken form, I rip off my helmet, taking grateful gulps of fresh, uncooked air in what feels for the first time in my life. Amazingly, even with her spine practically gone, the woman is still alive, glaring at me with a literally burning gaze filled with hatred.

"You… really… need to die." I gasp out, before grabbing her head with my ruined arm, my glove covering her face.

Briefly I can see one of her eyes peering through my fingers in alarm, but then the whine of the repulsor spools up and I avert my gaze. I keep firing until I can no longer feel her struggling and the scent of cooked flesh becomes too much to bear.

I let go of her head (resolutely ignoring the way some of her clung to the metal of my glove) and make my way back towards where I ambushed Killian, forcing myself to not look back.

As I reach the cars I can see that Killian is actually capable of walking again, though the damage seems to be getting to him as he falls down a lot, and doesn't seem to have a sense of balance anymore, nor does he hear me approaching him from behind (and weighing in at a tonne, slightly less now that the berserker woman destroyed parts of it, I'm not exactly quiet).

The sole Extremis enhanced I didn't have to fight is lying a few feet away from where I left him, having apparently tried to drag himself away from danger with his one arm and the stumps that are growing out of what remains of his legs. He hears me coming and lets out a choked scream of fear, but it seems that Killian really has lost his hearing as he doesn't give any indication he even registered his teammates' plea for help.

As I stand next to the downed Extremis subject, he glares up at me in a combination of tear-filled fear and hatred-fuelled anger. I half expect him to either beg for mercy or try and fight me even in his condition, but he seems resigned to his fate, as all he does is spit at my feet (the spit sizzles, my mind absently notes) before he glares at my uncovered face.

"Come on then, you fuck. Get it over with! Come on, do it! Do-"

I blow his head off before he can continue.

In a daze, tired, burned and in pain, I make my way towards where Killian has once again fallen on his face onto the still burning asphalt. I don't bother with a quip, or some clever boast, or even a monologue on how smart I am and how powerful I'll become with Extremis.

I don't say anything at all, simply opening up a compartment in the banged up plating of the armour on my torso, bringing out a syringe (one of many, most of which are broken. Which is why I brought so many to begin with) and jam it without ceremony in Killian's neck.

In order to subdue Extremis, preventing Killian from breaking free and murdering me while Stein tries to fix the serum, I've given his system something to fight.

A flu shot.

Well, something a bit stronger than a flu shot, but it works on the same principle.

I've given him a combination of every vaccine me and Stein could get our hands on, malaria, polio, the pox, you name it, we put it in a bottle.

By giving him essentially neutered versions of diseases, I make sure I don't accidentally kill him, while also making sure he can't recover too much of his strength. It's very likely that Extremis will (literally) burn through the diseases but by then Stein will probably have whatever he needs from Killian's body.

Almost immediately the heat coming off of Killian starts to lessen, while the bright glow on his abdomen and knees start to dim, pulling 'inwards' so to speak. He gives a pitiful groan of protest, but having been shot with a tank gun, guided missiles and a coil laser has clearly taken its toll and he falls unconscious.

Picking his limp body up, I sling it over my shoulder and activate my repulsors (my hearing picks up sirens approaching) and blast off before the authorities, S.H.I.E.L.D. or a hero can show up, making my way towards my lair (storage unit) in a roundabout pattern that will hopefully throw off any tails I might have picked up.

All in all, my ambush of Killian has taken roughly ten minutes.

Behind me, the crane that I slammed into comes crashing down with a tortured groan of warping metal.

* * *

My landing at the storage unit wasn't exactly dignified (nor could you really call it a _landing_ per se. Crash was more accurate) but at least it alerted Stein that I have arrived as he almost immediately pulled open the door in order to let me in, gazing in shock at my and Killian's burned forms.

"Jesus Michael! You look like shit, what the hell happened out there?"

Throwing the still unconscious Killian to the ground, I started stripping off my armour, not bothering with neatly packing it away like I usually do, instead being content with just letting the plates drop to the floor.

I gave a tired groan of pain as I bend down to unclasp the plating around my leg, as I answered the hovering scientist.

"There were complications. Extremis is… stronger than we thought. One of them managed to get a couple of good hits in."

"A couple of good hits? That's what you call that? Michael, I don't know if you realize this, but you look like you jumped on a barbecue!"

"Just… shut up. Please? Do you have something for me too drink? Something cold please."

Grumbling a bit, Stein nevertheless does as I asked, handing me a water bottle which I nearly emptied in a single gulp. As I finished the first bottle he's already back at my side with another, a damp cloth in his hand.

Taking both items with a murmured thanks I tried to clean myself up as best I could, though I stayed away from my sore neck and shoulders, quickly making my way through another four bottles.

When I laid the (now dry, but still cold) cloth on my burned neck, Stein spoke up again, having done a quick check-up on Killian.

"This might be a problem, Michael. I'm willing to bet your fight drew the attention of this S.H.I.E.L.D. you mentioned a couple of times, and that's not even taking into account the sheer amount of evidence you've left behind. People are going to know that Extremis, or at the least something like Extremis is out there, and that a guy in stolen Stark and Hammer armour took them out."

"Just… say what you want to say, Stein. I'm… tired, right now. All I want is to shower and sleep for a week." I mutter at the pacing scientist, and even though I'm slouching against the wall, I'm still taller than him, forcing him to glare up at me when he responds.

"What I'm saying is we might not _have_ a week. Too many eyes are on New York, we have to accept that we might need to leave, or risk getting found out."

I glanced up from the floor at Stein, before giving a glance of the storage unit we were in. It was getting cramped, even with the hole I punched to the adjacent unit I had also rented the moment the previous owner signed off on it. I was making more and bigger impacts, and though I enjoyed relative anonymity, between my mutations and the shitstorm at the docks, after tonight moving around freely was definitely out of the question.

I needed to lay low. I needed to remain free at least until May 4th, 2012. Steps 7 through 9 would (hopefully) make sure I'll never again have to worry about S.H.I.E.L.D. dogging my every step.

But where to?

As I glanced around, my eyes fell on the poster I made when I first started out, detailing the timeline of the mcu as closely as I could remember it. It is a far cry from the orderly and crisp diagram it started out as, covered in crisscrossing lines, post-its and coffee stains as it was, but one word stands out to me.

Vibranium.

Earlier I had decided that getting to Ulysses Klaue was too inconvenient, between not knowing how to get to him in the first place and the fact that I couldn't really do anything with the metal should I get my hands on it.

But now…

Now I had a man with one of the greatest healing factors in the world in my shed, and the docks are in complete disarray.

I'm willing to bet that some of the cargo there will eventually end up in South Africa.

"You're right Stein. You're absolutely right." I mused aloud, though I don't take my eyes of my timeline schedule, plans flying through my head at ever increasing speeds.

"I am? I mean, of course I am! But why?"

"Stein, listen to me. Here's what we're gonna do…"

* * *

Have you ever been inside the hull of a cargo ship as a stowaway on a transatlantic voyage?

Let me tell you from (newfound) experience: it's extremely uncomfortable.

Especially when you're 7 feet tall and with a build that would give a grizzly bear self-esteem issues.

In other news: turns out that even in this life, I get seasick ridiculously easily.

Yeah, this trip was quickly shaping up to become one of the most unpleasant experiences in my new life, and considering my life up till now had involved multiple cases of near-death and transformations painful enough I had torn my vocal chords, that's really saying something.

I was sitting with Stein in one of the cramped spaces between the endless rows of shipping containers, a small electric lamp placed between us being the only source of light, a small briefcase resting besides Stein our only luggage (or visible luggage anyways, as most of our equipment is stashed in the various containers around us).

"Are you sure you want to go through with this, Mr. McCole? It's just that… well, considering last time…"

"I'm sure Doctor. Just make sure you get somewhere safe after you've administered the serum to me." I say, trying to project an air of implacable heroism, though it is diminished somewhat by my green complexion (thankfully it's not a side-effect of the Hulk's blood, though at this time it's almost preferable over the week-long bout of seasickness I've been dealing with).

Giving me a sceptical once-over again, Stein shook his head in defeat, before opening the case, which held the same enormous syringe he used to turn me into the hulking brute I am now (while I wasn't overly fond of the massive needle, anything smaller would fail to penetrate my thickened skin), once again filled with a reddish substance.

Killian had been a treasure trove of information for Stein in order to work with the Extremis serum, since the AIM leader had been the very first subject and because of that was technically the most stable subject as well, given that he had he had survived the longest of all Extremis enhanced individuals without going 'kaboom!'.

Between the unusually stable reaction between his genetic code and the serum, and the extensive bloodwork Stein had performed on me both before and after my transformation, allowed the hyper intelligent scientist to create a serum which would (probably) not kill me in the process. Even though we had been underway for about a week, Stein hadn't been able to perform any further substantial work on the serum since most of the equipment needed for that was hidden inside the shipping containers, so we had to make do with what we already had.

Still, the risks were substantial, and this time we didn't have a controlled environment like the storage unit during my first transformation.

Basically our plan boiled down to him stabbing me with the syringe, and then running like hell, hoping I didn't burn a hole straight through the hull of the ship, making us all sink to the bottom of the ocean (though if the serum turned out to work I might just be able to survive that).

"Right, I'm ready Doctor, apply- MOTHERFU-"

Damn, that still hurt like a bitch, bastard didn't even wait for me to finish before shivving me again with the sword he tried to pass of as a needle.

Still, the Doctor quickly became the least of my worries as I heard his footsteps hurrying away across the metal grating, as I seemed to start burning alive from the inside.

The pain from my first transformation was nothing, compared to this.

The pain from the burns I got fighting the Extremis woman was nothing, compared to this.

There was no pain in the world imaginable, which could compare to immolation from the inside out.

If there was one positive to finding myself suddenly in hell, it was the fact that I locked up before I could start screaming, and blacked out after a few minutes (felt more like an infinite amount of lifetimes).

* * *

"Hey there, Michael. Try to lay still, huh? Everything's fine, everything's gonna be just fine…"

The soft whispers of Stein slowly dragged me from the dark void of unconsciousness I had been blissfully drifting in after escaping the pain. One of the first things I felt was heat. I knew that it should be far too hot for me, way past the point of 'burning up with fever' and right into the area of 'setting things on fire', but it felt… _right_ somehow.

Comforting.

Groggily opening my eyes, it takes a while before the blurry, unfamiliar surroundings make sense to me again. As everything slowly becomes sharper, I see Stein crouched next to me, his misshapen face looking at me in a combination of excitement and worry.

"You, my friend, are a true medical wonder." The scientist softly laughs, gesturing at my body.

Oddly, I feel a breeze across my torso, and as I look down I quickly realize why: I'm completely naked, with only a blanket across my lap protecting my modesty. The air is filled with the stench of burned synthetics and cotton, and surrounding me are blackened scraps which once upon a time were my clothes, having been burnt straight off my body by the heat of my transformation.

What grabs my attention isn't my state of undress, or the state of what once used to be my dress. No, what draws my attention is the red glowing veins running through my limbs and the glowing spot on the left side of my chest, which pulses with regular intervals.

I'm staring at my own heartbeat.

Trying something, I focus on my hand, _willing_ the heat to move towards it, to increase, to _burn_. As I do so, the veins start to burn even brighter, and my hand quickly starts glowing, the air shimmering around it from the heat it's giving off.

With a grin, I place my hand flat against the shipping container next to me, watching as the metal first starts glowing, before slowly beginning to sag where I'm pressing against it.

Turning back towards Stein, who's looking at the display of my new powers in awe, I let out a giddy laugh, unknowingly showing off the reddish glow at the back of my throat, as if it were the mouth to some hellish furnace, my eyes literally burning with glee.

"Step 6: Complete."

* * *

 **AN:** Step 6 is completed, though at great cost as I have probably drawn the attention of major players in the mcu-universe. The changes I'm starting to make are getting bigger, I'm getting kind of worried for how much longer my meta-knowledge remains relevant, as it remains the most powerful tool in my arsenal. Step 5 remains a problem however. I'll need to see how to fix it after taking out Klaue, though selling Vibranium is out of the question. Not only do I need it far more than anyone else, it's also likely to bring Wakanda down upon me like a ton of bricks.

 **Fun Fact:** Iron Man was created by Stan Lee as a challenge to create a hero no one should like and force people to like him.


	4. I like my weapons how I like my music

_**I like my weapons how I like my music: Heavy and Metal**_

* * *

Something I hadn't expected: apparently Extremis can't cure me of my sea sickness.

Combined with the fact that my innards were comfortably resting at a temperature hot enough to melt steel, 'projectile vomit' suddenly becomes a far more dangerous expression.

Still, at least Extremis kept me from feeling like absolute shit, and the journey towards South-Africa was progressing relatively quickly.

However, as there is virtually nothing to do inside the hold of a cargo ship, I was mostly stuck with either eating, sleeping or getting prodded and poked by Stein, who took the opportunity of having me in a position where I had nowhere to run to in order to perform a whole battery of tests.

While uncomfortable (Stein has seemed to have developed quite a fondness for the pike he claims is a syringe. He keeps stabbing me with it), the test were _very_ informative.

Turns out that the Hulk-blood and the Extremis serum not only played nice with each other, they apparently worked on top of each other, due to the different ways they used to enhance me. The effect was a multiplication instead of a sum.

Extremis basically supercharged my muscles and organs, raising the temperature of my body to ridiculous extremes, while giving me super strength and regeneration (it was why the lithe Extremis woman had been able to match me blow for blow, despite the fact that I was twice her size and wearing power armour).

Hulk-blood enhanced me in a different way, as it made my muscles and bones not only larger, but immensely denser as well (the Hulk and Abomination had become so durable that bullets simply bounced of their skin).

So, baseline human with Hulk-blood = Big, though human who is strong enough to bend steel.

Baseline human with Extremis virus = Strong, regenerating human running quite a fever.

With me, things were somewhat different.

Extremis didn't have to work with ordinary, puny human muscles, but with muscles enhanced by Hulk-blood to be larger and denser than normal, which on their own made them plenty strong already.

The result?

Supercharged, superheated Hulk-enhanced muscles. Basically, I was stronger than any human injected with Hulk-blood, and I was capable of reaching higher temperatures than any human enhanced by Extremis.

As was made clear to me when I started bench-pressing one of the shipping containers, the veins in my arms glowing brightly in the dim belly of the hull as my bulging muscles exerted themselves in lifting multiple tons of steel and cargo.

It wasn't effortless, but considering the container weighed in at somewhere around 3 tonnes, I should either be wearing power armour for this or be squashed flat like a bug. Instead, I had been lifting the container for half an hour now, the massive regeneration keeping my muscles from tiring, though probably not indefinitely.

Briefly, the urge to find someone to test my strength against overwhelmed me when I lifted the container with the ease that I did, the haze that came over me right after injecting myself with Hulk-blood rushing back with some familiarity, but I was quickly snapped out of it when I realized that the heavy hitters on the Avengers can probably lift 10 times that.

And there are beings out there who are even stronger than they are.

That quickly cooled my enthusiasm (figuratively of course, considering the Extremis-fuelled volcano that now seemed to live inside of me), but I quickly came out of my funk by experimenting with my new powers.

I had never realized that breathing fire could be so fucking _awesome_!

I felt like a dragon or something, and (much to Stein's annoyance) I kept the rest of the journey randomly spouting great bursts of flame, then grinning like a loon at my newfound status as living flamethrower (which are awesome on their own. Having one in your throat only multiplies the amount of awesome to critical levels).

Sadly (sarcasm much?) our wonderful sea-trip had to come to an end as we made port in Cape Town, South-Africa (and no matter what Stein tells you, I did _not_ end up on my knees kissing the ground, tearfully thanking it for not moving so damn much. I already destroyed the pictures so there's no proof).

Still, we had finally made landfall, on the 16th of August, 2011, which gave me around half a year to finish Step 5: get money, while also completing Step 7: take Ulysses Klaue's stuff.

Unfortunately, I still had to actually find Gollum. Fortunately, I had Google Maps, and I knew that Hulk fought the Hulkbuster-armor in Johannesburg, so I could just find the nearest beach and start looking there for Klaue's derelict ship. Unfortunately, it's a fourteen hour drive from Cape Town to Johannesburg, and taking a plane there was out of the question.

Most unfortunately though?

Johannesburg is an inland town: there are no shores anywhere near it.

When I discovered that I spent a good twenty minutes roaring in anger, fire literally spewing from my mouth as I cursed the producers of Marvel Studios for not doing their goddamned research before making their movies (then again, I only discovered the problem just now, so was being a tad hypocritical, but at the moment I didn't care).

Eventually I calmed down enough to realize that whatever I was going to end up doing, I couldn't stay hidden inside the cargo ship forever (especially since they had begun unloading it), so my best bet was to simply make my way to Johannesburg, and then use a outwards spiralling search-pattern to find Klaue.

But first, I had to get off this ship.

Getting _on_ the ship had been surprisingly easy: in the dead of night, when the only people present were exhausted firemen trying to contain the hellish nightmare the pier I had fought on had turned into, I came in with sealed boxes with our equipment inside from underneath the water (I had almost forgotten that since I had salvaged most of my armour from the Navy model drone, it also doubled as a submarine), then put those boxes inside the containers that I knew where meant for Cape Town (which were easy enough to find, as most shipping manifests were shockingly easy to get to if you had a motivated, hyper-intelligent genius on your side). Then, when they were scheduled to be shipped out, me and Stein simply hid ourselves inside one of them and presto, we were on board a trans-Atlantic voyage.

Now, we simply did the same but in reverse.

During the day, the containers (and therefore, us as well) were offloaded from the ship and stacked onto the harbour, waiting for their further distribution by train or truck or whatever other mode of vehicular transportation.

When night fell, I kicked open the door of the container I had hid in, and started ripping open the doors of the units in which I had stuffed Stein and the rest of our stuff. While I began loading everything in a single container, Stein went off to find us a truck which we could borrow for an unspecified amount of time, without asking (stealing is just such a harmful word, you know?).

While Stein went off to _procure_ our transportation, I kept on working as fast as I could, trying to get everything done before someone (dockworkers, drugdealers, hell, maybe even a few spies. In this universe, anything was possible) could show up and notice us.

Which is of course, the exact moment someone did show up.

It was a group of four men, and judging by their shifty expressions, lack of protective gear, and the way too fancy suitcase the guy in front was carrying, cuffs linking his wrist to the handle, I could tell they had just as much right being here as I had.

Which meant, none at all.

Thankfully, I was standing in the shadows cast by the container I was currently stuffing to the brim with advanced scientific equipment, so the dealers (of what exactly I didn't bother to think about) could only see a giant silhouette.

Turning towards them (making sure my features stayed hidden in the shadows) I focused on willing the heat in my eyes to increase, which as Stein had told me, made them glow up like a pair of overheated coals.

"You saw nothing. Keep moving." I growled, trying to do the Christian Bale version of Batman while I spoke (which meant that I sounded like I sprinkled gravel over my cereal every morning).

However, when combined with their already existing nervousness, it appeared that my deep rumbling voice, glowing hellish eyes and massive shadowed frame sufficed to get my meaning across, and resolutely not looking my way, they hurriedly walked onwards, towards whatever nefarious meeting they had planned.

I paused in my work long enough to keep an eye on them until they turned a corner and were out of my sight, before I hurriedly finished my work, trying to get all of it done until either they regained their courage or until someone else showed up who proved to be less easy to scare off.

Thankfully, I was almost done when those dealers showed up, and within three minutes everything was packed up and ready to go. It took another two minutes for Stein to show up (as he had never driven a truck before, his arrival was heralded by the sound of an engine and gearbox, slowly being tortured to death).

Hitching up the container to the truck was somewhat of a hassle, but between my super strength and Stein's intellect (not to mention several Google-searches and YouTube instructional videos) we got it done right as the dawn hesitantly shone its first lights upon the shore of South-Africa, as we drove off into the remains of the night.

* * *

Like I said, it's a fourteen hour drive from Cape Town to Johannesburg, and every time it was Stein's shift to drive again (which always made me feel slightly guilty towards the engine of our truck) I spend pouring over maps we had _liberated_ from whatever tourist info centre we came across.

During those long sweltering hours on the road (or at least, Stein kept complaining that they were sweltering. I barely even registered temperature anymore, always feeling comfortably warm) my mood kept getting worse and worse as I realized how truly fucked I am due to the MCU-producers not knowing their topography.

Because there is no such thing as a shore near Johannesburg, I now had no idea where to go look for Gollum other than in an ever widening search pattern. Finding Ulysses by just going around and looking for him would take ages, and while I had some time before Loki showed up, I wanted to be back in America well beforehand.

So, after getting rid of the map in frustration (it burned up in my hands after my realization that it was absolutely useless in helping me find Klaue, which annoyed Stein to no end as he now had no idea where we were going), I spent the rest of the trip to Johannesburg (a full six hours of either staring out the window, or trying to keep the old truck going after the abuse it suffered under Stein's inexperienced driving) sulking about my problem, plotting and dismissing hundreds of idea's as how to get my hands on that shiny Vibranium.

It was only due to the efforts of some misguided idiots that I finally found my answer: we were carjacked.

Or at least, that was the intention of our would-be robbers. We were still about an hour out from Johannesburg, finally hitting asphalt again, when out of the underbrush on either side of the road sprang three beat-up cars. They quickly sped up, two riding in front of us, two on either side of the cabin, and two behind us.

There was a lot of shouting involved, and guns being waved, and while Stein was clearly panicked by the violent demands for us to stop the truck, I couldn't help but grin.

"Stein. Stay down. I'll handle it."

Taking a good look at the thuggish looking brutes waving around pistols and machine guns, the scientist simply gives a jerky nod, before slamming on the brakes, killing the engine and diving underneath the dashboard (in the process almost making the cars behind us slam into the container, and given the fact none of them wore seatbelts I could see the criminals getting thrown around their cars when the drivers were forced to slam on the brakes as well. That should teach you: always wear your seatbelt).

As we all come to a stop in a great cloud of dust, a lean guy jumps out of the car on my side of the cabin, waving around a machine gun while yelling at me to open the door or else get my brains splattered across the ceiling.

I make no reaction to show I had even heard him, sinking a little further down in my seat instead. This clearly infuriates the car thief, as he runs up to the cabin, hand outstretched to the door handle, ready to rip it open-

BLAM!

-right as I kick it straight off its hinges, sending it (and with it, the would-be mugger) crashing back into the car with enough force that it completely crumples around the impact, killing both the thug and the driver, and at the least knocking out the occupants on the other side of the car.

In the shocked silence that follows, I jump out of the truck, sprinting towards the two cars at the front of us with a speed that would put a cheetah to shame. Heat is starting to build up inside me, and even though I couldn't see it, I just knew my eyes are lighting up like gateways to Mephisto's bedroom.

Within seconds, I reach the car on the right, and in a beautifully executed Spartan kick, slam my booted foot at the top of the frame where the front and back door meet. The car nearly tips over from the force of my blow, and before it can settle back down, I reach into its belly and lift it straight from the ground.

By now, the four thugs in the other car have gotten out, two on either side of it, but they have yet to open fire, a mistake for which they pay for with their lives. I throw the car at the two guys on the left side of the other vehicle, with enough speed that it catches them both and then keeps on flying for about 10 feet, before it comes crashing down and slides along another 5 feet, reducing them to paste.

While this is happening, I have already ran towards the remaining two car thieves, vaulting over the boot of their car before nailing the guy in the front with a sweeping kick that slams into his chest, which blasts him into his accomplice with enough force it shatters both their bodies.

RATTATTATATA!

And now the rest have caught on, opening fire with their machine guns and pistols, the truck completely forgotten in their rage and panic.

I quickly duck behind the car, before grabbing the underside and with a heave, throwing it on its side. Then, I pick it up by the axels and using it as a battering ram, charge for the guys on Stein's side of the truck.

However, between the larger distance between this group and the one I had just disposed of and the way dragging the car slowed me down, I don't manage to actually catch any of the guys (three this time), instead ploughing into their car with my makeshift shield, totalling both vehicles with an ear-deafening crash.

They had to jump out of the way from my charge though, and were more disoriented than me from their sudden tumble in the dust and the bang that had just gone off right next to their ears, so I still have the initiative.

I turn towards the two guys on the right, and before they can point their guns at me, I leap towards them, grasping each head in one of my hands, before I bring them together like I'm trying crack a couple eggs for my omelette.

Though I prefer my omelettes with a bit less brains, thankyouverymuch.

As I straighten however, a gunshot rings out behind me, and pain _explodes_ in my lower back.

Intellectually, I knew that apart from a headshot (and maybe even then) I had nothing to fear from small-arms gunfire, as I could survive it. Still, knowing that you're going to be fine after getting shot, and actually getting shot I discovered are two vastly different things.

I might have screamed, but if I had, then the noise was drowned out by a further six gunshots barking across the battlefield, each shot hammering into my back with enough force it felt like I was getting punched by the berserker Extremis woman all over again.

The shots throw me towards the ground, as I land on my hands and knees in whatever remained of the ex-car thieves heads, pain and _heat_ flaring all over my back, even as bits of grey matter stick to my pants and shirt.

But with the heat, comes _rage_.

That urge to let loose, to truly test my strength, that ever-present itch that had been at the back of my skull ever since I had taken part of the universe's most infamous rage-monster into myself flared back to life again, roaring to finally be unleashed.

And so I let it.

As the soon-to-be dead man hesitantly approaches my hunched form, I suddenly yell out in rage, the temperature inside me reaching extreme new heights, my shirt catching fire in a great ball of flame, revealing my ridged spine and raised ribcage.

Straightening myself, feeling the bullets stuck in my back being pushed out from their entry wounds while also slowly liquefying, I turn back towards the idiot who shot me, flames dancing around my torso, the air shimmering around my body as tarmac melts underneath my feet.

The guy has just enough time to swallow and lift the gun towards me, before I'm suddenly _right there_ , my white-hot glowing hand shooting forwards, fingers outstretched, slamming through his ribcage and emerging through his back, though there is no blood as the massive wound was immediately cauterized.

Lifting the corpse stuck on my arm, I turn towards the two remaining cars at the back of the truck (I could see the muzzles of their guns flashing, I could hear the shots ringing out, I could feel their bullets impacting my flame-wreathed from. I just didn't care), before reaching back like a pitcher at a baseball game. Then I throw the guy I had turned into a shish-kebab at the car on the right, sending him straight through the front window and into the boot.

That was apparently too much for the guys in the remaining car, as they stopped shooting, jumped in and tore off without even looking back. The other criminals weren't so lucky, as I had just broken their car, so they were stuck with me.

With desperate eyes they glance at each other, before resuming their shooting at my flaming form, yelling as loud as they could to mask their own fear, all the while slowly backing away as I advance, trying to keep some distance between my white glowing fists and their vulnerable bodies.

It was useless.

The beast inside me was raging to its heart's content, but I was still there, and I subtly reminded it that we also had a ranged option. And with that, I stop, opened my mouth, and breathe the biggest flame I had ever seen in either life so far (and I between the two lives I've had, I've seen Rammstein in concert five times, so that's saying something).

With my massive body also came massive lungs, and I kept up my flame throwing for a full five minutes, long enough for all the screams to die out. When I ran out of breath (and enemies to fight) the inner beast (which I was surprised to find I even had, as I had chalked up my more aggressive impulses to my own changed personality, rather than an internal alter-ego) subsided and I got control over my body again.

And promptly threw up.

The smell of burned flesh is horrible, yet was everywhere around me. The feeling of a human being dying underneath your hands is somehow worse, yet I kept picturing the man I had shoved my arm straight through, over and over again.

I fell to my knees on the ruined road (some small, numb part of me noticing I was naked again) simply staring at the vision of hell that was before me.

That I had created.

Dimly, I heard the remaining door of the truck open, before hesitant footsteps approached me.

"Michael? Michael, what's going- oh _Jesus_!"

I could hear the scientist retch behind me, but still I didn't move from my kneeling position, noticing that I'm not crying. Whether that is because my tears keep evaporating, or because I'm still in shock I don't know, and frankly, at the moment I don't care.

"Michael? What the hell happened?"

It takes a monumental effort before I managed to work my jaw enough to from words, and when I finally manage to, they surprise both Stein and me as well.

"I lost control."

Because that's what all this was. _This_ was what happened when a superhuman (a category which as of this year, suddenly includes me) loses control: others die.

I had never been a fan of DC's 'no killing rule', especially when it came to irredeemable psychopaths like the Joker, nor did I ever really buy into the whole 'humans hate/fear mutants' that the mutant storylines were based on (people somehow cheer for the Avengers, but hate mutants, while some Avengers aren't even human at all? Where's the logic in that?) but looking at the devastation around me, which I caused because I became angry enough to lose control?

I got it now. When people could do things like this, especially when they get angry, you cannot help but be afraid. Because even without superpowers, humans were capable of doing horrible things after just one, really bad day. Throw in superpowers, and the damage people could do to each other would monumentally increase.

This wasn't supposed to happen though. Not to me. Not in a Self-Insert. Those were all wish fulfilment stories, a little bit of mindless fun. Become friends with your favourite superhero, shag your celebrity crush(es), be adored by your allies, feared by your enemies and all that.

' _Except, you chose to do none of those things, did you?'_ a tiny voice (either my conscience or Ant-man) whispered inside my mind.

"Michael? What are we going to do?"

Stein's hesitant voice dragged me from my morose contemplations, and feeling as if my head was made out of lead, I raised it enough so I could look him in the eye, exhaustion filling every part of my being.

"We're going to go with my original plan. Before all… _this_ happened. We ask them where we can find Klaue."

"Do you think they know where he is?"

"If they don't, they'll know someone who does."

* * *

Turned out that Stein and me were both right, the guys who were left alive (five men, out of a group that started out with roughly twenty or so) didn't know where Klaue was, but they did know someone who probably did.

Some small-time weapons dealer, who bought from the massive stocks that Klaue and his like had on hand, and sold them in turn to the various gangs in and around Johannesburg, like the one that had tried to rob me.

Getting the location had been easy enough. While they all feared the weapons dealer enough to not snitch on him for authorities or rival gangs and the like, they feared me on a whole other level.

What came after was significantly more difficult though.

"What are you going to do to us?!"

It was one of the survivors, yelling at my back as I turned away to walk back towards where Stein already has the truck ready to go. Looking over my shoulder at the desperate man (who flinches when my glowing eye sets on him) I briefly stand still to order to think about his question?

What _was_ I going to do with them?

The smart thing to do would be to quickly kill them. If I let them go, then best case scenario is that they grab more weapons and friends and come back to try again, or worst case scenario is that they blab about me and my abilities to the wrong people (which at the moment includes just about everyone, but S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra are at the top of the list, and they definitely _will_ find out).

On the other hand, I have definitely had my fill of killing ( _my hand piercing through a man's torso, the fire from my arm searing his flesh_ ), and the thought of disposing of these men as well makes me vaguely ill.

Before I could make a decision either way, I suddenly remember the car that got away from me, probably three men inside. So, cat's already outta the bag, no need to kill these guys as well since containment is no longer an option either way.

I realize I'm rationalizing, and that it's probably a bad idea, but I can't bring myself to care with the stench of burnt human still filling my nose.

So all I did was shrug at the man, turning away from him and his friends, walking towards where Stein is waiting.

"I'm not gonna do anything. Just don't get in my way."

And with that, I jumped into the cabin, and Stein drove off, towards where the next lead to Ulysses Klaue and his Vibranium is located.

* * *

Finding the arms-dealer's hideout is easy with the directions the carjackers gave me. Getting in is even easier. It's located in the back of a whore house, with your stereotypical goons one either side of the door, which is probably locked from the inside with a heavy bolt, a small flap allowing for someone to give a passwords or something.

I just walk up without saying anything, ignoring the warning scowls the guards send my way, smash the head of one goon (they're pretty big. I'm bigger) into the wall, kick the other one in the knee, then knee him in the chin, before I kick the door into the hideout, taking mortar and the bolt with it.

As I step inside, shocked silence greets me.

All around the room are stacks of cash, crates filled with weapons and ammo, while a dozen or so guys are seated on ratty couches or at dingy tables. They were all either playing cards, video games, or with the half-naked women in their laps, and the scent of drugs is an almost physical thing, hanging in the air.

Some slowly reach towards their guns as the people inside regain their footing, the women clearly not knowing whether to scream or go hide in a corner.

All movement is halted as I remove the ratty blanket I had thrown over myself as a makeshift cloak in order to walk the back-alleys of Johannesburg relatively unseen. However, as I throw it off myself, I show them just how huge my muscles are, the raised ribcage jutting out from my skin, the glowing pulses in my chest showing my heartbeat.

"Anyone here by the name of Mandingo?" I rumble, my voice and expression clearly conveying just how _done_ I am with all of this shit, and someone better answer me within the next ten minutes or this part of Johannesburg goes up in flames.

A tall guy with dreadlocks warily steps up, an Uzi (or at least, I think it's an Uzi. I wouldn't know, I've never really been a fan of guns) grabbed securely in his hands, his fingernails blackened from filth and drug abuse.

"I am Mandingo, _freak_. What the fuck are you, and what the fuck do you want?" he spits, but I can clearly see through the front he's putting up for his gang.

If he wasn't terrified of me, he would've already shot me for being in his secret hideout uninvited.

Completely unbothered by the multitude of weapons that are within reaching distance of some of the worst scum in South-Africa, I take a few slow, measured strides towards Mandingo, until were about an arms-length away from each other.

Even from this distance, I'm looming over the arms dealer, who has to crane his neck a little to look me in my burning eyes, something he clearly has difficulty with. Most of them do, I notice, the dim lighting of the hideout throwing my glowing veins and pulsing heartbeat in high contrast.

"I want Ulysses Klaue."

That clearly takes him by surprise, as he briefly forgets his fear.

"What? Fuck no! I ain't telling you fucking shit, you motherfu-"

Faster than anyone can react, I've reached out, my massive hand closing around his throat and lifting him high above my head, making his feet dangle way above the floor. Immediately I hear the sounds of hammers being cocked but I ignore them, instead heating up my hand just the tiniest bit.

Immediately, the sounds and smells of burning flesh fill the hideout (I have to force myself not to hurl as an image flashes before my eyes of _my hand piercing through a man's torso, the fire from my arm searing his flesh_ ) Mandingo screaming bloody murder.

"Tell your men to stand down. _Now_."

"Stand down! Stand the fuck down assholes!"

As the men lower their weapons I drop Mandingo to the floor, letting him smack down with a meaty sound as he keeps writhing in pain from his burned neck.

"I'm gonna ask you again. And this time, you're going to tell me everything I want to know. And trust me, Mandingo: their _ain't_ gonna be a third time."

I bend down, grabbing the wailing arms dealer by his dreadlocks, hauling him up so I can look him in his blood-shot, panicked eyes.

"I. Want. Ulysses Klaue."

"All right! All right! I'll tell you! He's down at the Three Rivers, near Eikenhof, just South from here!" Mandingo screams out in a panic, any thoughts of keeping his dignity in front of his gang forgotten after his near-death experience.

Unfortunately I don't know where that is.

With that realization, I drop him to the floor again and straighten up, looking over the other gang members, who are all looking at me with a combination of wariness and anger. I look back down at the whimpering Mandingo, before I make my decision.

"I'm taking you with me."

And with that, I grab him by the neck (making him cry out again, this time cursing me, my ancestry, and the ancestry of the goat my mother has apparently lain with in order to conceive me. Or something like that, I don't really bother with listening) and turn around, making my way towards the exit, before I pause as my gaze falls on a duffel bag filled to the brim with cash.

I bend down, zip it up and sling it over my shoulder.

"And I'm taking this as well."

One of the bigger grunts opens his mouth in anger, the grip on his gun tightening, but I suddenly twist towards him, my eyes nearly bursting into flame with the heat I'm channelling through them, making him stop in his tracks, fear flashing over his face.

Tracking my hellish gaze over the other occupants of the room, I challenge all of them to try and stop me.

None of them do.

And so, with a cash-filled duffel bag over my shoulder and with a cursing and spitting arms dealer in my hand, I turn my back on Johannesburg.

* * *

As Stein and me are walking up to what Mandingo assured me was Klaue's base I was surprised to find that it wasn't a ship, before I kicked myself for forgetting the timeline (Klaue only gets the boat in 2015 I remember now).

So looking for the non-existent coast had been a bad idea from the start, as the weapons merchant wasn't even based there yet.

It's yet one more thing that hammers home to me that, while I had abhorred Mary Sues in my previous life, not being one now sucked in the extreme. Just one more mistake that I really cannot afford to make, because this world isn't like my old one, because this is a world of Gods and Monsters and I'm just a nerd trying to get through it all alive.

The hide-out is apparently a warehouse that seems to have been abandoned decades ago, graffiti on every wall and most of the windows smashed in.

Basically, it looks like crap.

I turn a sceptic eye on Mandingo, who visibly gets nervous under my scrutiny.

" _This_ is the place?"

"Yeah man, I swear man. This is where that fucking Klaue is, I come here all the time to do my business man." The arms dealer hurries to tell me.

"Really. All the time, you say. Then you go first."

"What?"

And with that, I grab him by the back of his stained shirt with one arm, reach back, and throw him through the front door, which yields under the criminal's impressive momentum in a wonderful shower of wood splinters.

Ignoring the pained groans from Mandingo and the panicked shouts from inside, I step into the warehouse, Stein making sure he stays behind me, which is rather easy as I am almost twice his size.

What greets me are several mountains of crates, cashes, storage units an even a few cubicles.

Oh, not to mention well over a dozen gun barrels.

I'm not worried however, as this time, I'm wearing my armour, fully kitted out with every weapon I could fit on it, which means that I outgun all of these men combined.

Hell, my tank gun alone would be enough to take out most of them, but I'm keeping that one as an ace up my sleeve for now. I don't know what Klaue will do, or what kind of toys he has, so better be safe than sorry.

I'm done making mistakes.

"Well, what's all this then?" A voice comes out of one of the cubicles, and as I hear the sound of an office chair rolling, Gollum himself peaks around the corner, one eyebrow raised in questioning, a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand, what seems like a Desert Eagle in the other.

Walking forwards, my boots clanking on the bare floor with metallic slams at every step, I ignore his henchmen training their weapons on me as I walk further inside.

" _Meneer Klaue. Ik heb een voorstel voor je_."

The Belgian man is clearly surprised at my Dutch, but even though he grins at hearing the closest thing to his mother tongue in what is likely decades, he remains wary.

"Really? _En wat voor voorstel heb je dan, waarvoor het blijkbaar nodig is dat je mijn voordeur intrapt_?" Klaue asks, arrogance lining his voice, though he seems to take me more seriously as he realizes I'm in power armour, standing up and putting away his bottle of Jack.

Stein taps me on the shoulder, and as I tilt my head to show that I'm listening, he hesitantly asks a question.

"Mr. McCole, what are you two saying?" he whispers, though in the vast space of the warehouse this is useless, his voice rebounding of the bare walls.

"I just told him that I had a proposition for him, he wondered what kind of proposition involves me kicking down his door." I reply, not bothering to keep my voice down, before I turn back towards Gollum, who seems to be amused at our byplay.

" _Het soort voorstel dat ons allebei schatrijk zal maken_." I say to him, trying to catch his interest by promising him riches.

"Aha." Klaue grunts, and his disbelief is almost visible as his gaze tracks my armour from my boots up to my helmet, finally resting on the turret of my tank gun that sticks out over my shoulder.

" _Is dat Stark's speelgoed dat je daar hebt_?" he asks about my armour.

" _Als je mijn voorsteel aanneemt, dan kan het jouw speelgoed worden_."

Again a tap on my shoulder, and as I turn back towards Stein he clearly looks uncomfortable with being the only person in the room who doesn't understand what's going on.

"What are you saying now, Mr McCole. I don't like the way he looks at us. Or rather, at the armour."

"I just told him that if he accepts my deal, the armour is his."

Ignoring Stein's outraged sputters behind me (for all the he claimed that as a geneticist he had no business helping me build power armor he rather acts affronted at the thought of losing something he has invested days of work into), I turn back towards the Belgian arms dealer, who I can tell is really intrigued by the possibility of getting his hands on Stark's latest tech.

The arms sector took a historically large hit when Tony Stark pulled Stark Industries out from weapons manufacturing, and despite people like Hammer trying to jump in and fill the gap, people all over the world only hungered even more for Stark tech, which had just become even more exclusive.

What is it they say about artists? The best thing they can do for their art is die?

As far as people like Ulysses Klaue were concerned, that's exactly what happened, and the thought of getting his hands on post-Iron Man tech was clearly catching his fancy.

" _Ik neem aan dat er bij zo'n mooi aanbod ook een heftige prijskaart is inbegrepen._ _Wat moet je ervoor hebben?"_

At his question as to what I want in return for my armour, I simply grin, hands outstretched in a grand gesture, as if I was a showman presenting my greatest prize.

" _Vibranium_. _Alles wat je hebt._ "

At that, Klaue's expression immediately closes off, and in a flash he has trained his hand cannon on my helmet, his thugs quickly following his example.

" _Geen sprake van. Het is niet te koop. Wegwezen met dat kut harnas van je, of ik blaas een gat door je kop!_ "

This time, I almost expect Stein's tapping on my shoulder, the scientist looking extremely worried at the amount of guns that are now pointed in our direction.

"Michael! What the hell did you say? What the hell did _he_ say?!"

"Oh, I told him that I wanted all of his Vibranium in return for the armour, he told me it isn't for sale and that I should leave before I get a hole shot through my head."

"Aha. I see."

" _In dat geval zal ik maar gaan. Maar voordat ik vertrek, mag ik misschien nog één ding zeggen?_ "

Frowning at my request to say one last thing, Klaue makes a 'get on with it' gesture with the cannon in his hands.

" _Oke, je hebt waarschijnlijk wel eens gehoord dat wij Nederlanders grappen maken over Belgen, toch? Nou, probeer deze maar eens op te lossen: Hoe vermoord een Belg een vis?_ _Hij laat hem verdrinken!_ "

Other than a snort from one of the goons surrounding me and the furious expression on Klaue's face, there's no reaction at all, besides the frantic tapping on my shoulder from Stein, whose clearly freaking out about the look Gollum is sending us.

I head his question off before he can ask it, not taking my eyes off the infuriated weapons dealer.

"Before you ask, I just insulted both him _and_ his entire people."

"What?! Why?!"

"I thought it was funny."

"What are we going to do?!"

" _You_ are going to duck."

"What?"

" **Now.** "

And with that, Stein hits the floor as I activate the submachine guns hidden underneath the plating on my arms, which are still outstretched in my showman pose. The moment Stein ducks, I fire up all the repulsors on the left side of my armour, and as I get hurled around in a circle I keep my fingers on the triggers, gunfire spraying out in twin cones of death, taking down everyone who wasn't fast enough on the uptake to duck alongside Stein (Klaue and two others are the only ones left alive, not to mention Mandingo, who seems content to simply lie very still were I threw him).

As I come to a stop in the classic hero pose (by accident this time, as I'm extremely dizzy and I almost fell down before I managed to catch myself in a way that at least looked cool), one of the guys that ducked in time, nails me in the head, making my helmet jerk back as the bullet glances off in a shower of sparks.

In response I blindly fire in his direction until I hear a cry of pain and a wet smacking sound.

Standing up straight, I see Klaue looking at me (or rather, my armour) in something close to amazement before he unloads his clip with a snarl. I let the bullets ping off my armour until I can hear his gun click empty, before I slowly approach him.

The last guy alive throws away his gun and backs away as I turn to look at him. For a moment both me and him stand absolutely still, before my tank gun suddenly swoops low and takes aim at him, prompting a small "oh god" and a wet stain at the front of his pants.

" **You saw nothing. Leave.** "

Giving a hurried nod, the hardened mercenary high-tails it out of the warehouse, not even looking back once at his former employer.

I step up to Klaue, hauling him to his feet with one hand (the new model of my armour leaves my hands free, making his eyes dart to the glowing veins with surprise, even as he starts sweating at that much heat so close to his face.

" _Je Vibranium, Klaue. Alles wat je hebt._ "

He growls at my demands for his hard-earned(stolen) miracle metal, but he refrains from antagonizing me, the combination of his feet dangling of the floor and the heat steadily burning his shoulder keeping him from spouting off.

" _Of wat? Arresteer je me?_ "

I almost chuckle at his idea of me arresting him, before my other hand glows white and comes up in a cutting motion, severing his arm just below the elbow. I drop him to the ground (more to keep the smell from getting to me, but it hopefully comes across as callousness instead) where he lies screaming in pain, clutching at the cauterized wound.

I shut him up by placing my armoured boot on his chest, and pressing down slightly, which causes his eyes to fly to my helmet.

" _Dat kan het laatste stukje zijn van jezelf dat ik verwijder, of het eerste._ _Jouw keuze. Waar is het Vibranium, Klaue?_ "

Between the option of his arm being either the first or the last piece I remove from him, the weapons dealer is quick to choose the latter. Directing me to the back of the warehouse, at the bottom of a small mountain of cashes and other crates, Klaue, who is looking decidedly bleak from shock, points out the largest crate.

" _Daarin._ "

I grab the crate by its sides, before ripping it from underneath the larger stack, not caring when it comes crashing down like a bad game of Jenga, my eyes glued to the box in front of me. Without ceremony, I rip open the lid with my bare hands, and there it is.

The metal I have crossed an ocean and a country for, a journey during which I had evolved to a new form and during which I had a minor existential crisis.

All there, neatly packed in tubes, right in front of me.

Vibranium.

"Step 7: Complete."

* * *

 **AN:** Step 7 is complete, but at great cost. Not only has my anonimity basically shriveled up and died a painful, ignoble death, I have also begun to question my role in this story I'm in. Or rather, what kind of story I'm in, or if I'm even in a story at all. The line between what's real and what's fictional blurs with each passing day. On the other hand, with what I took from Mandingo as well as what Klaue has squirreled away here is enough to keep me and Stein going for a while, though it's no permanent solution. Step 5 is still in progress.

 **Fun Fact:** The Hulk was originally meant to be gray. However, due to the printers giving each different panel a different shade of gray, it was decided that he should be green instead. The run during which the Hulk was gray instead of green was later explained as being a completely different alter-ego of Bruce Banner, called Joe Fixit.


	5. Firing up the Torch

_**Firing up the Torch**_

* * *

"You want me to do _WHAT_?!"

Wincing slightly from the sheer volume the mutated scientist produced, I rub one of my ears as I repeat myself.

"I want you to lace my skeleton with Vibranium."

Vibranium is truly a miracle metal. It's one of the hardest, densest materials out there, but weighs about as much as steel, and the way it deals with kinetic energy is literally out of this world. If I were to lace my bones with it, then there was no force on Earth which could break them.

I could take a punch from the Hulk to the face and only loose a tooth (which would grow back in a minute or two)

Unfortunately, it didn't seem like Stein was sharing my enthusiasm.

"Do you even hear what you are _saying_! You want me to put _metal_ on your _bones_! I'm not sure how well you did in Biology classes, but newsflash: metal isn't supposed to go there! _You. Will. Die!_ Even if the procedure to get the metal through your skin, muscles and fat onto your bones doesn't kill you, you'll effectively be suffocating your bone marrow and not last the week. Even if, _if,_ I would be able to get the metal on your bones and not immediately kill you, do you have any idea how hot the inside of your body is? You could melt the metal straight off you skeleton and then what?! I'm telling you it _cannot_ be done!"

At that I frown. Because I know that it has in fact been done. Multiple times, even. For all that Adamantium is treated as a legendary metal that's rarer than an honest politician, there are a rather large number of individuals running around with the stuff inside their bodies.

Though didn't Wolverine die due to Adamantium poisoning, both in the comics and in that (awesome!) movie? I still wasn't sure how my healing factor stacked up to his, and that's not even considering whether or not he exists in this universe (though I think he does, as the Howling Commandoes are a thing, and Logan used to partner up with them occasionally).

So, given Stein's sheer outrage at my suggestion, the chance that lacing my bones with Vibranium will indeed kill me is significant (not to mention that even if it doesn't, it might still end up useless if I turn out to be hot enough to melt it, which is a possibility).

I thought back on my newfound conviction after my road rage incident, and decided to honour it now as well, no matter how disappointed I was by not being able to become indestructible.

No more mistakes.

Giving a deep sigh, I try to placate Stein.

"Fine. No metal on my bones, I got it. But I'm not walking away from this empty-handed Stein. I _will_ use that Vibranium."

"Then build an armour out of it! That's what metal's _for_!"

"And do you know how to smelt and mould Vibranium to make armour out of it?"

"Well… no, not exactly…"

Giving a deep sigh, I plop back down on the workbench in one of the cubicles that Klaue had stored inside his warehouse. We haven't moved yet, partially because we don't really have anywhere to go, and partially because I suspect people have become aware of my existence, and some of those people will try and track me down.

Once they succeed, I'd much rather sit on a huge pile of military grade weaponry then be caught off guard somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

"I need an edge, Stein. I've been making bigger and bigger waves, but other than getting Extremis, I haven't become more powerful. Vibranium was supposed to be that edge, _and now you're telling me I can't fucking use it_!" I roar, jumping from the chair, flames spewing from my mouth, the air beginning to shimmer due to the heat I'm giving off.

Stein remains remarkably unfazed (seems that his time with me in the cargo hold while I was experimenting with my newfound status as resident flamethrower has done wonders for his nerves) simply fixing me with an incredulous stare.

" _More_ powerful? Michael, you bench-pressed a shipping container! You throw cars around like they're toys! You breathe fire for God's sake!"

Containing my frustration (and heat) with great difficulty, I slump back down again, my head cradled in my hands.

"There are beings more powerful than me Stein. Hulk and Abomination are just a few of them. Aliens, gods, there are people out there who can lift ten times what I can. And I think that eventually, I'll piss off every single one of them."

Glancing up at the scientist, I gave him a wry grin.

"Indestructible skeleton now making more sense to you Doc?"

Stein seems briefly stunned, before giving a sigh of his own, crossing his arms with a scowl on his misshapen face.

"I'm still not doing it Michael. I'm not going to murder you."

Giving a slow nod, I lean back into my chair (which groans under my weight) as I close my eyes and massage the bridge of my nose.

Seems like I need to revise my Twenty-Seven Step Program. Step 7 had been acquiring Vibranium. Step 8: using the Vibranium (or acquire any other sort of edge) turned out to be significantly harder to complete

"Fair enough. But that leaves us with a cache of miracle metal, not to mention the attention of the criminal underbelly of South Africa. I'm not selling the metal, but I can't use it either. So, what are we going to do Stein? Because this trip of ours seems to be shaping up to be one enormous shit-show."

For a moment Stein remains silent, and I'm thinking he's given up and decided to leave or something, before his voice suddenly jerks me away from my musings.

"Give me three days."

Glancing at him with a raised eyebrow from underneath my hand in confusion, Stein (still with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face) seems to ponder something, before looking back at me.

"You need an edge right? I can't think of a way to make you even stronger than you are now, not without other materials to work from, but I can make you smarter."

Giving a significant look at his massive cranium (which adds almost a foot to his height) I sit up straighter, excitement hesitantly growing inside of me.

"You mean you-"

"Cracked it? Sort of. I could give you my brain size and the increased intellect that comes with it right now, but I doubt you'd go for that, and given how often you get shot at, having a massive brain for a target doesn't sound very smart. What I've been working on for these past couple of months is a way to increase a being's intellect, _without_ giving them my deformity."

"And you know how to do that?"

"Give me three days and I will."

* * *

For the next two days, I barely even see Stein anymore, as he is holed up in the cubicle in which I have dumped all of our equipment and which has now been transformed into Stein's makeshift lab.

Which, for the first time in a while, left me with time on my hands.

Time, and a prisoner.

Slowly, as Stein is tinkering away and I look at the stirring Klaue (who passed out from shock shortly after I finally managed to get my hands on his Vibranium) the beginnings of a plan fall into place.

When Klaue wakes up, he sees me sitting not ten feet away from him, and hurriedly scurries away from me until his back hits one of the mounds of crates that are stacked throughout the bottom level of the warehouse.

"Shit! The fuck do you want from me, freak!" Ulysses spits out, grasping the stump of his left arm in pain.

He's clearly wondering why he's not dead yet, but the answer is rather simple; he's still useful. I have no doubt that for taking his arm he'll try to find a way to eventually kill me, so I have no qualms taking him out permanently, but before that he will still help me.

Whether he wants to or not.

Klaue is one of the biggest arms dealers in the world, a rather reputed name in certain circles of the shady underground of selling tools of death and terror.

So naturally, he has contacts all throughout the U.S. Government and Army.

I'm only interested in one though: Erik Killmonger.

Currently in Black Ops racking up quite the kill count for the American government, the cousin of T'Challa could turn out to be the key I needed in utilizing Vibranium.

" _Ulysses. Je gaat een telefoontje voor me plegen._ "

At hearing my request for him to make a phone call, and seeing my fanged grin, Klaue visibly swallows his nervousness.

" _En waarom zou ik jou helpen_?"

Why should he help me? Well, how to convince him? Oh, wait, I got it!

Without a word, my hand lights up until it's burning a glowing white, air shimmering around it from the immense heat that it's giving off. Slowly glancing from the lightsabre my hand has become to the sweating Klaue, I just raise an eyebrow.

Ulysses is quick to make the call.

All of this is a smaller part in the bigger plan to complete my most ambitious Step yet.

Step 9: Use Wakandan information or technology to make use of my cache of Vibranium

* * *

"You really like that damned thing, don't you Doc?"

Stein lets out a tired grin at my grunted assessment and the weary look I'm sending at the syringe (*cough* medieval longsword *cough*), giving a shrug even as he starts prepping my arm (the alcohol dissipates the moment its rubbed on my skin, but between my glowing veins and massive healing factor, the prep work is more a thing of routine than necessity).

"It has grown on me. Watching you squirm away from it every time remains funny."

He's completely unfazed by the glare I send him, and without warning, shoves the needle into the brightly glowing vein in my arm.

"MOTHERFU-"

Thankfully, because of Extremis the pain in my arm quickly vanishes, but it doesn't appear to do anything against the migraine that suddenly explodes in my brain. With a muffled groan of pain I fall of the chair I'd been sitting on, curling in on myself as my head feels like someone is taking an axe to my forehead with an unhealthy amount of sadistic enthusiasm.

While the pain isn't all consuming like the Extremis-transformation had been, this one feels somehow worse, the pounding against the inside of my eyes increasing with every heartbeat, my brain feeling like it's either liquefying or exploding.

Or maybe both.

The Hulk-transformation had taken a little over six hours to complete (with me only conscious for about three of those) while the Extremis-transformation had taken only half that.

This serum took effect immediately, and the pain started to gradually ebb away after about an hour and a half, but the migraine stayed with me for the next two days.

I hadn't quite known what to expect from suddenly having my IQ nearly doubled (and though not exactly off-the-charts, it had been nothing to sneeze at either), but all that I could say about it was… that it was _weird_.

No, but I mean, like really fucking weird.

It wasn't as if I had suddenly gained tremendous arcane knowledge or something, I didn't automatically just knew new things.

But I understood them.

Before, I had a rudimentary knowledge of why the arc reactor worked, but now I also understood _how_ it worked, understood the way Stark had utilized the fields created by the coils of the reactor to keep itself from blowing up in a spectacular way.

Everywhere I looked, I just understood what it was, how it worked and why it worked, while idea's flashed through my mind faster than they ever had before.

From my kneeling position on the floor, I gaze up in wonder at Stein, who is looking back at me with a tired smile on his face at my amazement.

"This is how you see the world… all the time?"

"Breath-taking, isn't it?" the geneticist replies, and all I can do is nod, as my eyes have fallen on his laboratory, and my basic scientific knowledge (which before had just about grasped the basics of Stein's work) now apparently was enough to extrapolate the functions of most machines, and predict the likely outcome of combining the various chemicals the scientist had stocked in his lab.

I'm drawn from my reverie by the sound of something heavy slamming on the table next to me. Turning around, I raise my eyebrows (still on my normalish face thankfully, it was the first thing I checked for after the pain ebbed away enough for me to regain control over my limbs) at the tower of science books Stein has just dumped on our desk, giving me a somewhat savage grin.

"What is that?"

"Homework."

"What."

Stein simply laughs at my flat reply (the bastard) and turns back towards his laboratory, his earlier tired slump now replaced by an air of victory.

"You didn't think I would just give you the second best brain on the planet and not have you use it? The procedure didn't give you any new information you don't already know, it just allows you to absorb and combine new information on a whole different level of speed. So, get to absorbing. After you're done, its online college courses for you, and after that, chess games with me. Until then, good night."

Staring at the tower of books and the retreating back of Stein, I can't help but call out at the scientist.

"It's noon, you know!"

"Don't care! Go study!"

With a grin (and a killer-headache) I sit down at the desk, and pick up the book at the top of the small hill.

" _An Introduction to Molecular Chemistry_ , by Dr. S. Stein… oh come on, you referenced your own books?! Only asshole professors do that you know!"

"Go study!"

Still grinning, I crack open the book and prepare to enhance my knowledge of the science this wacky universe runs on (because on a fundamental level, _something_ must be different, given the fact that some things that happen in here were considered blatantly impossible in my old one) when I'm stopped by an incredulous snort from the chained up Klaue on the only other office chair in the corner.

" _Jullie zijn gestoord. Compleet getikt._ "

At his exclamation that me and Stein are completely mad, I just let out a fanged grin, channelling the heat in my eyes (ow! ow! ow! stupid migraine) until they are glowing with a hellish light, making Gollum flinch away.

He doesn't interrupt my study session anymore after that.

As I'm reading and expanding my knowledge at an incredible speed, I keep grinning to myself.

"Step 8: Complete."

* * *

Night has fallen, and in the near-darkness of the warehouse, I'm playing chess against myself fully clad in my armour, my only company a clearly nervous Ulysses Klaue sitting across the desk from me.

I'm not really sure what makes him more nervous, me in front of him, or the fact that somewhere out there, there's an elite Black-Ops team led by an unstable psychopath with a chip on his shoulder.

I like to think it's me, since given the sheer balls he has displayed in all his mcu appearances and during his 30 year long stint of making a fool out of Wakanda I don't think he's all that afraid of anything that might be out there, but I'm an unknown that has crippled him, captured him, and has only fed him water for the past three days.

As one of the walls to the warehouse is blown inwards, I reflect that it's probably not me.

A squad of six, heavily armed men in tactical gear burst through the hole they had just made, their weapons already aimed at me.

Which is when the IED's, hidden underneath the floorboards in that wing of the building, explode in a great fireball, wiping the team of contract-killers from the face of the earth.

To my assailant's credit, there's only a short lull in the fighting, before smoke grenades are tossed inside through the broken windows on the ground floor, while I hear smashing coming from the windows on the second floor, where another squad has now landed on the various walkways there, while a third squad bursts through the door I had just installed yesterday.

Which, of course I rigged with more explosives.

The group at the door taken care of, I stand up and turn towards the walkway behind me, where the operatives have already ducked down and opened fire (my chess set is absolutely ruined, while a cursing Klaue is hiding underneath the desk).

Smoke starts to fill the open space of the warehouse, but it has hardly any effect on any of us (with the exception of Klaue, who is the only one without a helmet and whose cursing has transitioned into coughing).

Not even bothering with the bullets that shatter against my armour (the few that find the gaps between my plating hurt with a lancing pain, but Extremis is quick to sooth and heal the wounds so I manage to grit my teeth and pull through) my tank gun swoops low and takes aim at the walkway my would-be-killers are stationed on.

Briefly, there's some panicked shouting, before the night is filled with the explosions my tank gun creates, completely destroying the walkway they had been standing on (and consequently, them as well).

Which is when finally, Killmonger himself enters the battle (given his singed and dusty uniform, he was probably thrown clear by the first chain of IED's and has only now recovered), as shown by him shoving a short sword through the base of my tank gun, sheering it off my armour almost completely in one masterful stroke.

I immediately react, my gauntleted arm coming around in a wild hay-maker, but Erik ducks in time, and uses the movement to spring forwards, aiming his sword at my abdomen the moment my arm passes over his head.

Right before it can pierce my armour however, my other hand shoots out, and stops the weapon cold in its tracks by gripping the blade, the razor-sharp steel cutting into my superheated flesh.

Even though he is more skilled, I'm still stronger and faster, and despite his shock at my unflinching catch of his sword with my bare hands, when he starts pushing, I don't budge.

The blade is already hot due to slowly being covered in my lava-like blood, but when I heat up my hand, the entire blade comes alive with a dull glow, smoke coming of its handle, forcing Killmonger to let go with an angered hiss.

Throwing the sword away, I lift my hands (already healed) towards my helmet, taking it off in a slow, dramatic movement (after thoroughly and triple checking the rest of Erik's squad is, in fact, dead), allowing the helmet to fall to the ground with a resounding clang.

"No more weapons. No more armour. Face me in combat, and prove that the blood of your father runs strong in you, N'Jadaka son of N'Jobu."

 _That_ grabs his attention.

With a snarl, he removes the mask from his own face (due to all of the broken windows of the warehouse, not to mention the two giant holes in its walls, the smoke has already dissipated) glaring at me with an intense gaze, which would probably have cowed me a bit, weren't it for the fact that he has to look up in order to meet my eyes.

It's amazing what height will do for your confidence, especially when it's stretching human limits.

"Who the fuck are you!? How do you know my name?! Did Wakanda send you!?"

At his roar, I simply chuckle, my deep, rumbling voice easily filling the ruined warehouse.

Slowly, I start removing the armour on my torso, and as I undo the last clasp, the plating falls away with a heavy clanging noise and my mutated body is shown to the world, my glowing heartbeat visible and steady.

"Do I look Wakandan to you?"

Taking a few steps back and dropping into a fighting stance at the sight of my enormous muscles and raised ribcage, Killmonger gives me a weary look.

"Who the _fuck_ are you?"

"Who I am is not important. You are, on the other hand. Or rather, on what you plan to do with your life."

At my confused look, I start stripping off the rest of my armour, leaving me in only my cargo pants and combat boots, all the while talking in a relaxed, easy manner.

"Do you want to keep killing for your mother's country, the country that spat on her, that locked her up, that killed her, until you're so full of scars you won't even recognize your own face when you look in the mirror?"

At me mentioning his scars he's visibly taken aback, his fists clenching as it slowly dawns on him that I know far too much about him than should be possible for a complete stranger.

"Or… will you honour your father?"

And that's the final nail in the coffin, as Killmonger slowly drops out of his stance, confusion warring with cautiousness on his face.

Eventually, the urge to know more about the man who has shaped his entire life wins out.

"What do you know about my dad?"

"I know that he was a great man. That instead of allowing one country to selfishly hoard amazing riches for themselves, he wished to share it with the world, to lift all of humanity to a higher level. And that he got killed for it."

I pause in unclasping the greave on my thigh, glancing at the now silent psychopath with a knowing look.

"By his brother, no less."

"What?!"

Killmonger is trembling in fury, and the only thing that's keeping him from attacking me is the fact that I apparently hold the answers he's been after his entire life.

"The current king of Wakanda, T'Chaka, tracked down your father after he was betrayed by a man he thought his friend. Your father was confronted by his brother, the king, then still the Black Panther, but instead of showing mercy to his own flesh and blood, he gutted his brother like a common criminal and took off, leaving you an orphan, and the grand plans of your father unfinished."

Approaching the fuming soldier, I keep talking, keep filling his heart with hate, until he's ready to be pointed in the direction I want him to go.

"The claw marks…" he whispers to himself, but in the silence of the warehouse (Klaue is wisely pretending not to be there at all) my enhanced senses easily pick up his words.

"Yes. The people of Wakanda call him king and protector, but you know better, don't you? You know the truth. The Black Panther is no hero: he is a murderer, a kinslayer, a man who would kill his own family rather than help other people. But what are _you_ going to do about it?"

At my question, Killmonger's gaze snaps up to my own, as he bares his teeth in a snarl.

"I'm going to kill him!"

"You can't."

My words register with him almost like a slap to the face, making him stumble back half a step, before his rage roars back to life inside him and he's suddenly chest to chest with me (holy shit, I think this guy has balls made of Vibranium) stretching to his full height as he clenches his fists.

"Bullshit! I've trained and bled and killed, all my life, just so I can kill him!"

And with that, he takes a few steps back, desperate hands grasping at the clasps on his own body armour, before he tosses it off him with jerking, angry movements, displaying the crocodile-like scarring all across his torso.

Looking at me with a challenging expression, Killmonger opens his arms wide, showcasing his macabre trophies to the world (the world in this case just being me and Klaue, but he doesn't seem to care).

"Every carving stands for one more scumbag I took out. The hardest criminals and mercenaries anyone had to offer, and all of those shitstains are now nothing more than marks on my skin. I _will_ kill the Black Panther!"

I turn my back on him (mostly so I can keep my face from showing my shock at seeing such extensive self-mutilation) and try to make my voice sound disinterested as I slowly walk away.

"You will _try_ , I'm sure. But you will fail."

"I WON'T FAIL!"

At his roared exclamation, I pause, before dramatically half-turning, sizing him up with a single eye over my shoulder.

"Then prove it. Fight me."

My challenge takes him off guard, and his rage is quickly replaced by wariness once again.

"Why do you want me to fight you? "

"Because not only is the Black Panther not a hero, he isn't really even a man. He's a monster in human form, a… _freak_ like me." I say with a wry smile as I turn to fully face him.

"The Black Panthers are enhanced by the Heart-shaped Herb, a powerful medicinal plant that enhances anyone who eats it. Traditionally, whenever the King is challenged for the throne by his kin or the leaders of the other tribes, he must be stripped off his powers. But you know what kind of man he truly is: do you really think that a murderer like him will stoop to your level?"

I cross my arms and give the fuming soldier a savage grin.

"No, if you were to challenge him, he would just as easily gut you as he gutted your daddy."

"He won't get the chance to even _touch_ me." Killmonger growls, sinking a bit lower into his combat stance.

"So prove it. Last in a fight against me, show me that you can defeat a superhuman, and then we'll talk about how I can help you get your revenge. Fail, and you just prove you're useless to me. An American lapdog, not worthy of the blood of the noble N'Jobu."

And that appears to be enough to tip him over the edge, as he charges me with a roar of hatred.

He's fast, really fast, unleashing a flurry of spinning kicks that force me back, and though I'm quicker, he proves his far greater skill by using every failed attack to set up the next one, targeting weak points in the basic guard I've put up.

And all the while he is trying his level best to kick my head in, I'm watching his every move.

Learning.

It's only when he comes in with a sweeping kick at my left thigh that I counterattack, taking a page out of his book in how he uses the momentum of his body to fuel and chain his strikes as I turn and raise my knee, smashing it into his leg and throwing it back, making him lose his balance for just a split-second.

In a flash, I've extended the leg I've countered with, my boot slamming into his chest and throwing him back well over ten feet, where he crashes to the ground with nothing but a pained grunt.

As he quickly works his way to his feet (trying not to put any pressure on his cracked ribs), I slowly chamber my foot again, still standing in perfect balance on one leg, before I bring my other leg down and loosen my stance again.

Which is the moment Erik charges back in once more.

I have to hand it to the guy, even with cracked ribs he hasn't noticeably slowed down, and is even getting in closer now to add punches to his attacks, making sure to get shots in with short fast jabs, more striking true than missing.

And still I'm learning.

When he jumps up, I raise my arm to block his flying punch, briefly obscuring my vision of him, which he immediately exploits by ramming a knee into my diaphragm, and the moment he lands, he twists forwards with his elbow poised to strike the same place again, clearly trying to cripple me as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, as strong as he is, he isn't strong enough to really damage me, and instead of being winded by his knee strike, I'm still fresh and I twist my torso to the side, letting him slide in front of me.

I can see his eyes widen in shock the moment he realizes the opening he has left, but by then it's already too late.

Now behind him after his failed elbow strike, I shoot forwards, my massive arms wrapping around his middle, and before he can react I heave him upwards over my head, then slam him into the ground, striking the breath from his lungs.

As he lies there gasping for air, my boot crashes into his side, lifting him up and sending him flying into one of the stacks of crates, letting him fall to the ground at the base of the small mountain.

I patiently wait for him to regain his breath (2 minutes, having a few definitely broken ribs is probably not helping things any), and when he works himself to his feet he's swaying a bit, but the murderous look in his eyes hasn't dimmed in the slightest, and as he glares straight into my glowing eyes, he snorts in disgust, and spits out a wad of blood, before rolling his shoulders and getting back into his stance again.

This time, I'm the one to approach him, letting out a few testing punches of my own, our different levels of skill immediately apparent when compared to his earlier flurry of seamlessly chained attacks. In contrast, my own attacks are all very telegraphed and clearly not part of a greater combo like his were.

Erik manages to take advantage of my lack of skill, guiding away my heavy handed strikes rather than try and block their super strength. Each time he dodges, or forces one of my fists to the side, he exploits the opening he has created, by pummelling me with knee strikes and quick series of punches.

But he's tiring.

I'm not.

After nearly a full minute of me inexpertly wailing on the nimble form of Killmonger, he turns out to be just half a second too late to properly dodge one of my punches, which clips him in the shoulder.

Usually such a strike wouldn't be enough to create a proper opening, especially against someone of Killmonger's calibre, but when coupled with his current state and my enormous strength, it almost sends him spinning.

Immediately, like I've learned from him, I exploit the opening and punch him in the chest with a left hook, sending him crashing back into the crates, and as he's reeling, I turn in and punch him straight in the liver with my right, making him gasp out, though no sound escapes him. As he can't help but curl in on himself a bit (I don't care who you are, or how powerful you might me: a liver-shot from someone of greater strength _will_ hurt like a bitch) I shoot towards his left side, fist raised high.

He brings up an arm in defence (impressive given the state he's in and how much faster I am) but it's useless as I let fly, my fist slamming through his feeble guard and into his jaw, sending him crashing to the ground.

I can feel his jaw dislocating under my fist, and when he goes down, for the first time during our fight he remains still for a moment, his world filled by exploding pain.

He impresses me however, by propping himself up on trembling arms, glaring at me with nothing but murder in his eyes. Then he goes and tops that, by grasping his dislocated jaw with one hand, and shoving it back into place with nothing more than a grunt (I feel slightly queasy at the sound of the bone popping back, though hopefully it doesn't show on my face).

And then he goes and tops _that_ too, because before I can react, he comes up in a spinning kick that catches me in the back of my knee, making it collapse underneath me. While I'm brought low, he turns the spin of his kick in a leap towards the crate I had punched into, pushing off the moment his feet hit the wood, coming up in a cork-screwing back-flip, one leg snapping out and crashing into my cheekbone, making my head snap to the side.

The moment he lands, with me still off guard, he blasts off, nailing me in the chest with a flying knee, forcing me to the ground with him kneeling on top of my torso.

And he starts wailing on my face, roaring in pain and hatred all the while.

I can _feel_ the impacts, but they don't exactly hurt; the best I can describe the sensation of his punches crashing into my super dense skin and muscles is like getting repeatedly shortly but firmly shoved.

Sure, you'll feel it, but it won't hurt you.

After about twenty seconds of him unleashing all of his fury, he slams his last punch into my face with a final yell of exertion. Slowly I turn my face back to look at him, wondering at what I can feel on my cheek.

Bringing a hand up to rub at the spot on my face, both me and Killmonger gaze in amazement at the glowing, burning blood on my fingers.

Looking at the shock I can see in Erik's eyes at the sight of the superheated liquid on my fingers, I just can't help myself, a grin growing on my face.

"All that… for a drop of blood."

And with that I come up and head-butt him in the chest, throwing him off of me. We both scramble to our feet, but he's tired and bloody and broken and other than a small cut on my cheekbone I'm still as fresh as when we started.

And with that I come back in again, this time my attacks noticeably better than five minutes before. I can see Erik's eyes widen when he realizes I'm chaining my attacks in the same _exact_ way he has been doing all our fight.

Every time he finds an opening in my pattern and exploits it, the next time he tries to do the same thing, I block him perfectly. Every time he blocks or dodges one of my punches, the next one connects flawlessly.

All of it amounts to a merciless beat down, as I'm wearing him down bit by bit, while my regeneration keeps me at the top of my game.

It all comes to an end when he blocks one of my backhands. Seeing his midriff unprotected, my right fist snaps forwards in a perfect replica of the dozens of punches he has landed on me tonight.

Catching him full in the stomach, Killmonger slumps over with a pained grunt. Not letting up, I step forwards, bringing up my knee in a brutal strike against his chin, straightening his body with a snap, his feet nearly leaving the ground. As he slowly tips backwards, my hand shoots out, grasping him around the throat, before pulling him back.

I raise him high above me in the air with a single hand as I stride quickly towards the shot-up desk with a few great strides, before jumping up myself, and slamming down the black-ops soldier with an almighty crash straight through the furniture.

As I straighten myself, Killmonger doesn't get back up again.

I stand beside his broken form, gazing down at the man who once would have almost conquered the nation of Wakanda. He's barely clinging to consciousness and as he looks up at me, I can see the realization in his eyes.

He's dying.

I've done too much damage to his organs, ribs and spine for him to make a recovery without extensive surgery and extended hospital stay, both of which he isn't likely to receive in the rundown shithole that used to be Klaue's base.

But I can offer him something better.

As a door at the back of the warehouse opens, soft footsteps nearing us, I crouch down besides the broken Killmonger, keeping his gaze fixed on me.

"You are bleeding out, N'Jadaka son of N'Jobu, just as you would have if you were to challenge the murderer T'Chaka. But I offer _salvation_! I offer you a chance, to become stronger, to stand above the broken form of the Black Panther as I'm standing over you right now."

As I finish speaking, Stein comes up next to me, looking down at the JSOC Ghost with a closed-off expression, in his hand a syringe with a brightly burning serum inside.

Extremis.

Killmonger's eyes widen minutely at the sight of the mutated scientist, before his gaze tracks back towards me again.

"All you have to do…" I hold my hand out towards the marine "… is to accept."

Briefly indecision wars in his eyes, but eventually his pain and looming death, as well as the chance to do what I did to him to Black Panther, win out, and he lets out a feeble groaning sound, his hand slowly, trembling, rising from the splinters of the desk he's lying in.

And he clasps arms with me.

The moment he does, Stein steps forwards, injects Erik and then hurriedly leaves the scene of carnage the warehouse has become, not looking back as I follow after him, grasping an awed looking Klaue from the ground where he threw himself when I went for the desk he had been hiding underneath during my fight with Killmonger.

And behind us, the screams of Erik ring out into the night.

* * *

 **AN:** While I still can't use the Vibranium, the first pieces of Step 9 fall into place, which will allow me to shape it to my whims once I've completed that part of my Program. Instead, I completed Step 8 by gaining an edge through enhancing my intellegence, which allows me to learn _anything_ , which includes fighting, something I haven't gotten the time until now to really master, only knowing the basics of self-defenc. But with a new sparring-partner, that will change.

 **Fun Fact:** There are several people worthy of wielding Mjolnir. Amongst them are Captain America, Black Widow, Storm, Conan the Barbarian, Superman, Wonder Woman and even Loki.


	6. Wakanda shit is this!

**_Wakanda shit is this!_**

* * *

I block a punch, the air wavering from the impact of two superheated objects striking each other with tremendous force, before I grab the offending appendage, reeling my assailant in and delivering a picture-perfect Spartan kick to his chest, feeling something snap underneath my boot as I sent him flying straight through a couple of trees, before he slams into the trunk of one big enough it would take three of me to circle it.

Standing up from the charred and broken imprint he has made in the old tree, Erik Killmonger straightens with a savage grin on his face, his ribs already healed, his eyes burning with a bright orange light.

We are deep in the jungles of the heart of Africa, having begun travelling immediately after Erik recovered enough from his Extremis-transformation, taking Klaue with us as he is the only one who knows the way.

Sterns has already left a week before we set off, with the Vibranium and our lab equipment stashed inside the truck, travelling like we currently were to the heart of Africa, agreeing to wait for my return in a small town near where I think the borders lie of Wakanda.

It was difficult for me to trust him with the Vibranium, simply standing by as he drove off with billions worth of metal in the back of the truck, but I had no choice, since both he and the Vibranium were no longer safe this close to Johannesburg. The amount of attention I've drawn was once more made clear to me when, before we left, I liquidized as much of Klaue's assets as I could, and within an hour of having made my search for a buyer know, there had been a small army of thugs and spooks on my doorstep, their quick response time only possible if they had been close from the start.

By making sure to stay behind, giving Sterns a head start, I tried to keep all attention on me, which was rather easy to do, considering the kind of deals I was willing to make as long as it transferred all of Klaue's hardware in usable money.

Klaue nearly went mad with rage at me selling his stock that cheap (or at all, for that matter, but doing it this way also targeted his professional pride), but between two super powered people capable of cutting off his limbs with their bare, superheated hands, he held his tongue.

Though he has been steadily cursing me out under his breath every step of the way ever since we left Johannesburg behind us.

"Would you quit that! It's bad enough having you two throw down every chance we get, but we're getting close and I, personally, prefer _not_ to alert the entirety of Wakanda to our approach, by setting their entire fucking jungle on fire!" Klaue yells out, having apparently had his fill with the impromptu spars me and Erik have been having all along the way.

My new brain allows me to learn anything at a terrifying speed which means I'm literally getting better during every fight, while Erik is just happy to test his newfound strength against a worthy opponent (though he's pissed off I'm still stronger by a wide margin, and the fact that he can't reach the same temperatures as me) so its profitable for the both of us.

Though I suspect that Killmonger is also taking this as a chance for revenge as he holds me responsible for the disappearance of all his hard-earned scars.

While I concede to Klaue's warning, as I drop out of my guard and turn away from Erik, I don't let his outburst go by completely unpunished as I walk up to him until I'm chest to face with him, the arms dealer craning his neck to look into my burning eyes.

"Perhaps if you're so scared of discovery, then the _next_ time you have some advice, you give it while keeping your voice down. Understood?"

I keep my glowing eyes on him until he reluctantly looks away, no longer able to meet my gaze.

"Understood."

And with that, we move on in silence, exchanging the scenery of luscious green jungle for, you guessed it, even more luscious green jungle.

I have no idea where Klaue is leading us, and over the next few days of trudging through stifling green, trying not to trip over what feels like every single root tree in the fucking galaxy I begin to suspect that he's tricking us, despite the very graphic threats I delivered when I warned him about doing so (many a white-glowing appendage had been waved around).

I'm proven wrong however, when after what feels like months, stuck inside that godforsaken jungle, out of nowhere Klaue, who is walking in front, nearly guts himself on the spear that is held in front of him.

As he slowly steps back towards us, our little group draws closer, and as I look around I can see several women approach us through the underbrush, most of them moving with enough grace they don't disturb a leaf, and all of them are utterly silent,

I don't know how long they've known we were in their backyard, but given the fact that they have chosen to reveal themselves now makes me believe that we are close to Wakanda itself.

Getting discovered sucked, as I'd much rather sneak in and out of the kingdom undetected, but with how little I knew about it and its defences I hadn't been counting on it.

This would work for my plan just the same.

The woman who nearly allowed Klaue to walk straight into her spear barks out what seems to be a question, to which Killmonger steps up and replies in a clear voice, showing no fear at being surrounded by the warrior-women.

While I can't speak Wakandan (yet) Erik has been teaching me the bare basics of the language, so I can sort of get the gist of the conversation.

It basically boils down to the women wondering what kind of suicidal idiots we are to wonder so close to their territory, while Erik is trying to convince them to let us past, as we are friends to the Wakandan people.

There falls a silence in their conversation when I hear Killmonger say the word that I think translates to 'gift'.

The leader of the squad raises an eyebrow in scepticism, but at least she drops out of her combat stance, letting the butt of her spear rest on the jungle floor as her eyes track Killmonger up and down.

"What gift?" she asks in heavily accented English, and without preamble, Erik jerks his head in Klaue's direction.

"Him."

"What?! You son of a bitch! What the hell do you think you're playing at! I'm going to-"

Klaue is stopped mid-rant by suddenly finding a Vibranium spear tip resting on his Adam's apple.

"You are going to be silent."

Despite the soft tone, the woman's words cannot be mistaken for anything else than an order, and Klaue, with a spear at his throat, simply nods (very carefully as to not cut himself).

Turning her head to look at Killmonger again (though she doesn't remove her spear from Ulysses' neck), the woman seems somewhat intrigued.

"You offer us this man? Why? What worth is he to Wakanda, that you think giving him to us is sufficient payment to allow you safe passage?"

"Because, _that's_ Ulysses Klaue."

It's clear that said arms dealer wants to spit in rage, but he's held back when the woman presses her spear just that little bit closer, drawing a drop of blood as interest now becomes clear in her eyes.

"Is he now?"

As hushed whispers go around the group that has ambushed us, it quickly becomes apparent that Ulysses is somewhat of a celebrity amongst the Wakandan people, though probably not in a very positive manner.

Being one of the very few people who managed to steal from Wakanda and live, as well as evading capture for more than three decades will do that for you.

After an intense discussion with what appears to be her second-in-command, the leader of the group turns back to us, her chin held high as she gives her next order.

"The King shall decide the validity of your gift, and whether or not this man is who you claim him to be. You shall follow us."

* * *

The Golden City of Wakanda is both impressive and odd.

Probably because of how organic everything appears. Everywhere you look, there's green, and the massive buildings that are towering amongst it all have an almost natural look to it.

Whereas cities like New-York are sometimes described as concrete jungles, this city is in harmony with the jungle instead.

It's difficult to remember we're still on Earth, instead of walking amongst the works of some alien civilization.

Still, as pretty as the Golden City is, I barely have eyes for it.

Instead, all of my attention is focused on the looming Royal Palace, and the technology that is squirreled away in there.

The Panther Habit.

While various members of the group that's escorting us are switched out several times by what appear to be different tribes at different locations within Wakanda, the woman who captured us remains leading us in the front, and is probably responsible for allowing us to be led into the heart of the city so swiftly, armed guards bowing out of her way.

And then we're finally there, walking through the grand entrance of the Royal Palace, armed guards lining the walls, Klaue and the woman in front of me, Erik next to me, and another guard squad behind me.

And at the end of the hall, sitting on his throne, is T'Chaka with T'Challa standing next to him with his arms behind his back, regarding us coolly.

Which contrasts with his father, who's eyes narrow dangerously when he recognizes Klaue.

The arms dealer himself merely lets out a cheeky grin at being confronted by the king of an isolationist country from who he stole literal billions worth of unique metal.

Whatever else he is, Gollum ain't a coward.

As our procession comes to a halt in front of the throne, T'Chaka raises to his full length, as the woman who has captured us kneels in front of him, rapidly recounting in Xhosa how she captured us, and decided to bring Klaue to him as she couldn't verify whether Erik was telling the truth, but if he was, then it was T'Chaka's right as King to pass judgement on the man.

After the women has finished recounting her tale, the King of Wakanda gives a grateful nod, before fixing Ulysses with a stern gaze, though it doesn't seem to have any effect on the weapons dealer.

With slow steps, T'Chaka approaches us, clasping his hands behind his back as he tries to stare the Belgian criminal down.

"Letting you escape is a mistake that has haunted my reign for these last 30 years. It is good to see that this mistake shall finally be corrected, and judgement passed on you, thief."

Klaue grins at the King's speech, his entire air on of nonchalance.

"I'd say nice to see you too, but well… mother did raise me not to lie, so I won't."

I see anger flash across T'Challa's face at the disrespect his father is shown, but T'Chaka is made of sterner stuff, and doesn't even so much as twitch, instead looking at Erik, his gaze softening.

"Thank you, young one, for bringing this criminal to justice. Wakanda and its people owe a great debt to you and your… friend." The king trails off, looking at my massive form.

I'm not worried by the King's scrutiny however as there's something far more attention grabbing going on next to me.

The temperature in the hall is sky-rocketing.

"You, owing me a debt? You don't even know how right you are, _murderer_."

The moment the word falls from his lips, the guards draw their weapons, while T'Challa snarls in fury, striding towards us with clenched fists and anger in his eyes.

"How dare you?! You have no right addressing my father that way!"

"I HAVE THE ONLY RIGHT!"

And heat explodes from the literally fuming Killmonger, whose sheer rage stops T'Challa and the other guards in their tracks.

"I gained that right, when one night, I find my father, in our house, _gutted like an animal_! And all that I had to go on, were the claw marks in his body and his notebook talking about Wakanda!"

He reaches around his neck, ripping off the necklace that had been hanging there, showcasing the enormous ring dangling on the end of it, before throwing it at T'Chaka's feet.

" _That_ gives me the right!"

While the other guards and T'Challa look merely confused at the Royal Ring this stranger has just revealed, T'Chaka looks like he's just seen a ghost.

In a way, he has.

"You…" he whispers in a shocked voice, backing away a few stumbling steps as if he can't believe his eyes.

"Say my name, old man. Tell them who I am, murderer. TELL THEM MY NAME!"

In the silence that follows his echoing roar, T'Chaka's wavering reply is heard by all.

"N'Jadaka, son of N'Jobu…"

That last name clearly rings a bell with the older generation present, but T'Challa and the younger ones still look confused until their King turns to his son with a mournful expression on his face.

"… your cousin."

While T'Challa seems floored by the revelation, T'Chaka turns back towards Killmonger, who is giving off more and more heat the longer he's staring at the man who killed his father.

"My boy… why have you returned? Why now?"

"I've come to kill the Black Panther. To kill you."

Before he has even fully finished speaking, T'Challa is upon him with an animalistic snarl, kicking Killmonger in the chest with both feet, sending him sliding across the marble floor, though he turns his fall into a springing handstand, landing on his feet again.

"You will not so much as _touch_ him!" T'Challa snarls, as he and his cousin both straighten, eyes fixed on each other with murderous intent.

"I understand your pain, child-"

"You understand NOTHING! You murdered my father!" Killmonger screams at him, his eyes glowing with the Extremis running hot through his veins.

"And in doing so, I killed my own brother, forever staining my hands with the greatest sin imaginable. I lost family too that day. But I am no longer the Black Panther. I now merely rule as King of Wakanda, while my son, T'Challa, has instead taken the mantle of the defender of our people."

As he says this, he places a hand against T'Challa's chest, forcing him backwards as he tries to reason with his murderous nephew.

"My son had nothing to do with your father's death. He has never wronged you; how could he, when he did not even know you exist? Leave him out of our feud, N'Jadaka. He is the protector of our people, and despite what happened between my brother and I, you are still one of ours."

Briefly, Erik seems to take the words of his uncle into consideration, before the hate I've fuelled in his heart with my words and with Extremis cause his rage to come back, and the air starts to shimmer around his body, smoke beginning to rise from his smouldering clothing.

"I'll _never_ be one of yours. You will pay for what you did do my dad. I'm going to kill you."

Again the death threat seems to spur the guards into action, T'Challa even bearing his teeth, but T'Chaka silences all movement in the hall by raising a hand.

Briefly, he closes his eyes, before fixing Erik with a heavy, tired gaze.

"If you kill me, then will your quest for vengeance be completed? Will you leave this land and its people be in peace?"

"Father, you can't! We-"

"AM I NOT STILL KING!?"

At T'Chaka's roar, all protests abruptly halt, silencing the hall once more, before he turns back to Killmonger, who despite his rage, apparently still recognizes the power in the older man's eyes.

"Do I have your word on this? My life, in exchange for your peaceful departure from these lands?"

There's no hesitation in Killmonger's answer.

"Deal."

And with that, he unsheathes his short sword with a metallic ringing noise.

As T'Chaka makes to approach his nephew and executioner, T'Challa stops him in his tracks, whirling his father around to face him, rapidly talking to him in heated Xhosa, but due to its great speed, I only understand the basic gist of it.

"Father, what are you doing?! Your life is worth more than a bargaining chip! The Dora Milaje will escort him out of our borders and then-"

"And then in the next year, or the next five years, or the next ten years? He'll come back, and this time not with a bound criminal as a gift, but with an army at his back, and it'll mean war for Wakanda. I know his kind, he's not one to give up, because we wouldn't either. I cannot defend my people as the Black Panther anymore, but at least as King, in this way I can spare them from the suffering of war."

"Then we kill him and be done with it!"

"My son. Twenty years ago, I killed one of my own kin and that moment has haunted me every day and night since then. Do not be so quick to repeat my mistakes. After today, there shall be no more kinslaying amongst the Golden Tribe."

It's clear that T'Challa wants to rage against his father's plan, but the aged king places a hand on the young man's shoulder, a sad smile on his face.

"I understand your fear and your sadness. I had wished for you to remain free from Kingship for a while, allow you to simply remain the Black Panther while I took care of politics for you. You've always hated them." The king says with a chuckle before continuing.

"But it seems it now cannot be. Our paths diverge from this moment, and no longer shall you be able to simply remain the defender of the Wakandan people, but be their King as well. And yes, that involves politics as well. You shall decide the course of our nation, and there is no doubt in my mind that you shall lead them well. But, you shall do so, without me."

Leaving his son nearly in tears, T'Chaka turns towards the waiting Killmonger, approaching his nephew with calm, measured steps, his entire posture one of unwavering confidence.

This is a man who looks death in the face, squares his shoulders and says 'bring it.'

As he stands in front of the now pacing Killmonger, T'Chaka straightens his jacket for a final time, before lifting his chin, looking Erik straight in the eyes.

"I am ready."

Killmonger lets out a savage grin, the veins around his eyes lighting up with a hellish glow.

"This one is for my dad."

"Yes, indeed it is."

And without further ceremony, Killmonger draws back his sword with both hands, T'Chaka closing his eyes, his expression one of peace while Killmonger's is one of hatred, the blade of the soldier's sword slicing through the air, whistling as it comes around in a graceful curve, inching towards the King's neck-

 _CLANG!_

-only to be halted in its tracks at the very last moment, sparks flying where a spear is holding the blade at bay, mere inches from T'Chaka's neck, whose eyes fly open in shock.

Standing there next to him, muscles bulging under his ceremonial shirt, the current Black Panther strains against Killmonger's sword-strike.

"You said it yourself father; I am the protector of all Wakandan people. That includes you."

And with that, T'Challa kicks his father in the chest with his heel, sending the man sliding back, Killmonger's heated hand closing into an empty fist where his head had been a mere second ago.

Roaring in rage at his denied kill, Killmonger starts hacking away at T'Challa, who uses the larger reach of his spear to desperately ward off his cousin's attacks, before in a spinning move he slaps Killmonger's blade to the side and out of his hand and ramming the tip of his spear in the opening he has created, the Vibranium weapon easily punching straight through Erik's abdomen, emerging through his back.

"I am T'Challa! Son of T'Chaka! Heir to the Throne of the Golden City and the current Black Panther, defender of the Wakandan people! As long as I draw breath, you shall _never_ harm a single one of them!" T'Challa roars at his slumped over adversary, keeping him upright with the weapon he has impaled him with.

There's a lull of silence after the Black Panther's challenge echoes throughout the hall, before it's broken by a soft chuckling. The chuckling keeps increasing until it's full-blown laughter, coming from the shaking, bent over form of Killmonger, which clearly freaks T'Challa out.

Glancing up, Erik lets out a vicious grin, glowing blood staining his teeth.

"Fine by me."

And in a flash, he straightens and kicks T'Challa in the chest. The prince goes flying and hits the ground hard, while Killmonger rips the spear out of his belly, flips it in his hand, and hurls it at the Black Panther. As T'Challa throws himself to the side, the spear pierces the thick marble slabs of the Palace floor and shudders with the impact, while both cousins gaze in each other's eyes, fury and wariness present in equal measure.

Then both let out a roar of defiance and the battle has begun.

* * *

While all this had been happening, me and Klaue had slowly been backing off, until we stood way at the back of the crowd that had formed, our backs against the wall, completely forgotten in the dynastical drama that had begun to unfold.

" _En nu?!_ " Klaue hisses to me, trying to not draw any attention to us, asking what we're going to do now.

" _En nu zorg jij voor een afleiding_." I lean over as I tell him he's about to be a distraction, grasping the chain of the manacle that keeps his remaining hand secured to one of our guards, who is far more interested in the yelling match between Killmonger and the royal father and son duo.

" _Wat?_ " but as he asks that the chain is broken due to the melting heat of my hand, and I give him a hard shove that sends him flying towards the exit of the hall. Just as Killmonger and Black Panther start their brawl, one of the Dora Milaje spots him, and with a yell of 'the prisoner is escaping!' charges at him, which causes Klaue to bolt, shooting one last poisonous look over his shoulder at me before he's off, half of the guards inside the palace following him out, the rest completely engrossed with the fight that's happening in front of them.

Perfect.

Making my way around the hall, I reach the area behind the throne, where I can spot where the rest of the Golden Tribe is standing, worry clearly on all of their faces, but it's only one of them I'm interested in.

Ramonda.

And there she is, standing behind the throne, one hand kept on the small form of the still 11-year old Shuri while worrying her lip, watching as her son is doing his best to not get the shit kicked out of him by her murderous nephew (as he isn't a charred corpse yet, he's doing better than about 90% of all beings on earth).

With a few great strides I'm standing next to her, greatly startling both her and her daughter, one of my hands on each of their shoulders (though I have to bend a little to reach the tiny Shuri), gripping them with enough force to show them they have no hope of breaking free, but not enough to make them cry out in pain.

"What-!"

"The labs." I cut her off, walking backwards, taking both of them with me, tightening my grip when it seems they're about to protest.

"Lead me to the Wakandan labs." I explain, only to get a scoff from Ramona.

"There's no way in hell I'm taking you to the laboratory-"

This time I cut her off by slowly increasing the heat in both my hands, quickly reaching uncomfortable levels, though not hot enough to start burning them.

Leaning down between them, I force Ramonda to look into my eyes, which appear like two molten pools of lava, before I slowly open my mouth, letting her show the Balrog-like inferno at the back of my throat.

The message is clear: I can go _way_ hotter.

Glancing at her squirming daughter, Ramonda glares at me with murder in her eyes, before jerking her chin towards one of the numerous exits behind us.

"Follow me."

* * *

Of course, there are still more guards stationed throughout the palace other than in the hall, and it's clear that the Queen Mother had been counting on that, trusting that I'll find myself suddenly and violently impaled upon their weapons.

Unfortunately for her, I have been spending every day for the last two weeks getting into fights with one of the greatest baseline human combatants on the planet, and every second of every fight was recorded and recalled in perfect clarity by the second most advanced brain on the planet.

That being said, the first guard takes me by surprise.

The very moment we turn a corner in the maze-like belly of the Palace, Ramonda violently rips herself from my grip, taking her daughter to the floor with her in a mad dash. Before I can even comprehend what she is doing, a guard, having apparently heard our approach, jumps out at me from around the corner, swinging his sword around in a wide arc which passes over the floored Royal pair and sending the long blade biting deep into my chest.

Or at least, that's his intention.

Due to being caught off guard within such close quarters, there's no chance for me do dodge or block, so the metal edge of the weapon slices through my shirt and skin with ease, sinking into the raised sternum directly underneath.

And sinking in no further.

Both the guard and me stare wide-eyed at the blade is now stuck in my chest like a demented staple, before our shocked gazes meet. The moment fear rises in his eyes is the moment that terrible haze of anger (which I had pushed down into the depths of my soul, trying to forget its existence ever since the Road Rage incident) rises in mine.

My hands burn white-hot as a snarl that is more animal than man tears itself from my throat, and as the guard falls backward in a desperate move to escape, I shoot forwards, a flaming fist burying itself deep into the man's stomach, crumpling the metal around it and lifting him off his feet.

As the man falls to his hands and knees with a breathless gasp of pain, the sheer anger I feel causing me to growl deep in my chest, a terrible rumbling sound, much like an earthquake. Then, before I can even try to regain control of my baser (and _angrier_ ) side of me, I bend down, grabbing the man by his neck-guard and his belt, before effortlessly lifting him above my head.

I know what I'm instinctively about to do before my muscles even tense, but it all happens so fast I'm helplessly to stop it.

Before the shocked eyes of the Queen Mother and her daughter, I slam the palace guard down over my knee, his back breaking with a wet snap. Shuri's scream is suddenly cut off as her mother slams her hand in front of her daughter's wide-open mouth, drawing the little girl closer to her as she looks up at my snarling form in naked fear for the first time.

Fighting my rage down is like trying to swim my way to the surface of a lake of molasses with cinderblocks tied around my feet, it's just so _tiring_ and I feel like giving up multiple times, just let it take control, but with nothing around to fight me anymore, it gradually backs down.

But it's not gone dormant completely; I can still feel it prowling around the back of my mind, just waiting for the next chance to cut loose.

Taking a deep breath, I walk towards Ramonda, who hurriedly shoves the now silent Shuri behind her back, climbing to her feet and gazing at me in defiance, chin lifted high.

I keep walking until were almost chest to chest, before I look down at mine, or more specifically, the weapon that's still stuck in the raised plate of bone that my sternum has become after my first transformation.

When I see her eyes looking at the sword as well, I focus the heat in my chest to increase, the glow of my heartbeat now becoming visible underneath the cloth of my rough shirt.

The blade starts heating up until its glowing white-hot at the place where it's stuck in my flesh and as the metal starts to slowly melt, it slides out of the wound, falling to the marble floor with a clang and a smoking hiss.

Sure, far more painful than just taking it out, but it apparently works as an intimidation tactic on the Royal pair, as Ramonda has her lips pressed together in a thin, nearly non-existent line, while Shuri is staring at me with eyes wide as saucers.

Bending over closer to Ramonda, I growl at her, rage still singing in my glowing veins.

"No more games. No more tricks. The labs, _your Highness_. **Now**."

We meet only half a dozen guards on our way to the labs after that.

None of them last longer than ten seconds. While the wave of anger doesn't take over again, it does hurry me along. My muscles are capable of lifting more than three tonnes. Their muscles can resist far less than that.

I don't bother fighting them, or disarming them, simply sending superpowered punches and kicks through whatever defence they try to put up. It's rather like watching someone throw their hands up, expecting for it to help them survive getting hit by a truck.

Maybe some of them survived, but I don't bother to check the broken bodies I leave behind, pushing Ramonda and Shuri along in a hurry. The longer I'm here, the higher the chance of the Wakandans killing Erik or Klaue, which increases the chances of my own discovery significantly.

Finally we reach the labs (I suspect that Ramonda has been taking the long way round) and I finally lay my eyes on that which I have breached one of the most advanced countries in the world for.

Because, right in front of me, is one of the Panther Habits resting on a mannequin.

Leaving the suit (for now), I throw the Queen and her daughter (the small child petrified in silence after seeing me snap the first guard we came across in half over my knee) inside the lab, before approaching one of the multiple terminals that fill the advanced laboratory.

Grasping her bruised shoulder, Ramonda tilts her head high, giving me the coolest, most disapproving look I have ever seen in either life as I navigate the terminal, gathering her crying daughter in her arms.

"Do you honestly think you can get away with this? This laboratory is protected by the most advanced security programs in the world. Even if you were to breach it, the people of Wakanda won't forget the blow you have struck against us today; our War Dogs will hunt you down. There is no place on this Earth that you can hide where they will not find you. They are _everywhere_. Than could be _anyone_. You'll _never_ be safe."

"Really? Ulysses seems to have been doing just fine for over three decades before I came along though." I blandly reply, which briefly stuns the Wakandan Queen into silence as I breach the security system and start downloading all of their data onto the heavy duty stick I've taken with me.

"W-What? How did you do that!" Ramonda asks in shock, the idea that her scientists have been outsmarted clearly not something she knows how to deal with.

The answer? Homework.

Or more specifically, spending literal days reading through programming manuals and watching just about every instructional video I could find on the internet. With my ever expanding knowledge about programming came an ever increasing supply of databases that I could access, as my hacking skills increased with every target that I managed to hack which allowed me to hack more difficult targets and so on and so forth.

Combined with a brain that can think about twice as fast as the normal human can, and there was hardly any system that could keep me out.

Finishing my download of all of the information on advanced Wakandan technology that's stored on site, I pocket my trusty stick again, and turn back towards the Panther Habit-

"To hell with you, _monster_!"

\- only to get punched in the face, _hard_ , which sends me flying into the terminal I had just used, it's metal folding around my massive frame.

As I work my jaw, feeling the tooth that had been knocked loose slide around in some superheated blood, I lift my eyes to see Ramonda standing in front of me, her form one of regal confidence and justified anger, wielding those panther-themed gauntlets that Shuri would end up using, though these seem… unfinished, compared to the ones her daughter would wield in five years against Killmonger.

"How does that feel, miscreant? These are Wakandan-made weapons! They shall bring about your fall, swifter than any Stark-weapon ever could!"

And with that, she pulls back one of her arms, before sending her panther-gauntlet at my head again, the blue glow at the front of her hand nearly filling my vision.

Before I catch her punch.

Though I try my best not to show it, doing so had broken nearly every bone in my hand (I bite my own tongue in order not to scream out in pain), but seconds after the impact, they are already rapidly healing, which causes my hand to heat up immensely.

I can feel that darker side of me rising up in anticipation, but I desperately fight to stay in control of my actions, my respect for Bruce Banner rising to immense new heights.

He had to deal with something far worse than this on a daily basis, and yet managed to work in third-world countries as a doctor, spending his time helping people, which can't have been the most stress-free job environment.

It was honestly a miracle we weren't all dead yet.

Glaring at the Wakandan Queen, I swirl my tongue around in my mouth for a moment, before spitting out my tooth to the side, the blood sizzling against the metal floor the moment it lands.

"W-What?" Ramonda briefly seems stunned, before she recollects herself masterfully, and with a controlled expression of ice-cold rage sends her other gauntlet towards my side, aiming for my liver.

Having learned from my newfound experience, I catch this punch by the plating around her forearm, instead of meeting her attack head on. Rising from the wreckage of the computer, I loom over the fuming Queen, and start crushing the metal of her weapons underneath the strength of my hands.

"Trust me, your Highness. You don't hold a candle to someone like Stark. You managed to make these after years of access to one of the most versatile materials on the planet, using a lab others have made for you over the span of hundreds of generations. He made the Arc Reactor, _the_ greatest piece of technology any human has ever produced, _in a cave_."

Finishing my rant, I raise both my hands, forcing hers up as well, until she's struggling to remain standing on the tips of her toes.

"What's your next move, my Queen? You're out of options." I rumble, but Ramonda's eyes simply flash in defiance.

"Not entirely."

And with that, she twists her hips, sending her leg flying forwards, and as close to me as she is, her aim is true: it comes crashing straight into my family jewels. Pain explodes in my nether regions as my gut gives a violent twist. With a pained grunt, I let go of her arms, sinking to my knees as I try to blink away the stars in my vision.

Extremis kicks in almost immediately, soothing the pain, but before I can recompose myself, Ramonda has taken advantage of my temporary weakness, and sent her gauntleted fist crashing into the sweet spot on my chin, knocking my head back as I nearly bite the tip of my tongue off.

Still reeling from those blows (had I still been a normal human, they would've been enough to floor me) I'm too slow to defend myself against her next attack, and briefly my vision is filled by a purple glow before her mangled (but clearly still functional) gauntlet slams into my face and I can feel my nose breaking with a spurt of lava-like blood.

As I'm bent over, blood flowing from my smashed nose, the Queen rears back for another punch, but by then the roaring anger inside my mind has become unbearably loud, so once more I allow myself to lose control.

Right as her glowing Vibranium gauntlet descends towards my face, I turn towards her with an animalistic growl leaping from my chest. In that same twisting motion, my left arm comes round in an arc, crashing into the side of her gauntlet, slapping it to the side. Simultaneously, I heat up my right hand, and before her daughter can even let out a wail of horror, slash it across Ramonda's throat, the cauterized wound smoking as the woman stumbles back, shock written across her face.

As Black Panther's mother collapses to the floor, her daughter runs at me with a grief-filled wail, tiny fists raised in a futile gesture, before I grab her by the throat, and lift her up, her feet dangling several feet above the floor as she keeps struggling.

My attention shifts from the dying Queen to her crying daughter, but the moment my gaze lands on her, I rail against the all-consuming haze in my mind with a horrified roar, powering through the lethargic feeling from before, desperation fuelling me. Killing children is a line that I shall never, _ever_ cross, not even when someone else is in the driver's seat, so to speak.

If the dark manifestation of the rage inside me is surprised by my sudden fighting spirit, it doesn't show it, and as it slowly backs down, all that I'm getting from it is a sort of disgruntled sensation.

The moment I'm fully in control again, I let the struggling Shuri fall to the floor with a shocked gasp. My breathing is hurried, but I ruthlessly try to suppress the panic that it threatening to rise up within me.

As I'm bent over, hands on my knees, trying to control my breathing, I look up at the soft crying sounds the little princess is making, seeing that she's abandoned her short-lived attack on me and instead has crawled over to her fading mother, cradling the Queen's head in her lap, all the while calling out to her to not leave her in between her sobs.

Ramonda raises a trembling hand towards her daughter's tear-stained cheek, caressing it softly with a shaky smile, before the expression slowly fades away, her gauntleted hand falling to the grating of the laboratory with a metallic clang.

And just like that, Ramonda, Queen Mother of Wakanda, is no more, leaving her crying daughter behind, cradling her corpse.

Briefly I consider what to do with the distraught princess before I settle on just knocking her out cold with a soft tap to the head. Stepping towards the kneeling little girl, she looks up slowly at me, tears filling her eyes. Then her face twists with the most hatred I have ever seen someone display, her lithe form shaking with barely contained rage.

"I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna grow strong. And then I'll _kill_ you."

For a moment, I just stare at the young Shuri, seeing the burning hate within her gaze, before my expression softens somewhat as I go down on one knee, bringing our eye-levels closer together, lifting a hand and holding it in front of her forehead.

To her credit, she doesn't shrink away, nor even do so much as flinch, instead just staring at me with that murderous look in her tear-filled eyes.

"I believe you."

And with that, I flick her in her head, causing her head to snap back, her eyes rolling back into her head as she slumps down next to her mother, unconscious (I know, I checked).

Stepping over the Royal mother and daughter duo, I walk towards the Panther Habit, ripping it off its mannequin and quickly shoving it inside my backpack.

With that, I turn my back on the science wing and start making my way to another part of the Palace I had passed on my way to the labs, its smell immediately catching my attention.

I think I found the location of the Heart-Shaped Herb.

There are hardly any people near the gardens and only two guards on opposite ends of a walkway, though they're clearly nervous at all of the commotion that is happening in and around the Palace.

Since stealth isn't really an option (not that I'm in a mood to try it anyways) I instead decide to run up to the guard closest to me, and just as he turns around with an alarmed shout, spear raised in defence, my hand shoots forwards, smashing through the wooden base like it's a tooth pick, and grabbing the man by his breast-plate, the metal buckling underneath the strength of my grip.

By that time, the second guard is approaching us in a run, spear lowered in an attacking position, a roar on his lips.

Which is when I throw the guard in my hand straight into him, sending both to the ground with an almighty crash, either knocking them out or killing them (I neither feel the need, nor have the time to check on which it is).

Now unopposed, I finally lay my eyes on one of the most bullshit power-ups in this universe for the first time.

The Herb itself is very odd to look at, the soft purple glow somewhat off-putting. It's all fine and dandy to see glowing stuff that you know has been made with CGI on the big screen in the cinema, it's another matter entirely to see something in real life that's glowing, especially when it has no business doing so.

Still, I quickly rip a few bushels from the ground and stuff them inside my back-pack as well.

I briefly contemplate ingesting one of the leaves right now (or why even stop at one? Why not eat this entire garden like some demented goat? Wouldn't that make me even stronger?) but since I don't know how long the acid-trip will take once I do, while being defenceless for the duration of its mystic effects, I quickly decide that I should get the hell out of dodge first before trying.

Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I briefly gaze around the Royal Garden, the glowing flowers swinging softly in a peaceful little breeze. Tens of thousands of years of staunch tradition had been based around the mystic powers of these plants. To the Wakandans it represents a link to their earliest history, the land they currently live in and the land they will end up after they die.

To me, it's a liability.

Given how many people will want my head after killing the Queen, I can just imagine several people ingesting the leaves for its power in their quest for revenge.

That's just proper narrative at work there.

Besides that though, if my plans work out then Wakanda will end up exposed to the world at best or destabilized at worst. In either case, the outside world will know about the Herb and its powers, and every single spook, criminal or even ordinary citizen will fantasize about being on the same level as the iconic Captain America.

Briefly a horrifying image passes in front of my mind, of Hydra-labs with fanatics being enhanced with the leaf, breeding an army of supersoldiers, or the Fingers, unbelievably dangerous already after spending so many lifetimes in the shadows, now with even more dangerous enhancements, an Alexandra unburdened by the failing of her body or the fear of true death looming over her.

Taking a deep breath (literally), I set all of it on fire.

* * *

Getting out of the chaos that has become the Golden City (it seems that Klaue has managed to set off bombs or something, as parts of the city are on fire, while judging by the sounds of battle coming from the palace, the fight between Killmonger and Black Panther is still going strong) is easier than I had feared it would be.

In all of the disorder, people have abandoned their vehicles, and I jump on the nearest bike I can find, its frame groaning underneath my weight but thankfully holding. With a roar of the engine (a sound lost amongst the cacophony of noise that is the distressed city) I blast off towards the jungle, not slowing down for people, obstacles or even when I enter the jungle itself.

I don't plan on stopping until Wakanda is _way_ behind the horizon.

It had taken two days of running away from Wakanda like the Devil was on my heels (the bike ran out of fuel after four hours of going at top speed), but I finally managed to burst from the stifling jungle, finding myself on a dirt road that seemed to trail off into a tiny little collection of hovels way off into the distance.

Meeting up with Sterns is surprisingly easy; he has the only motorized vehicle in this little town in the middle of nowhere. What's _really_ surprising though, is that he seems to now hold a rather high position within the village's hierarchy, something like a medicine man after treating a wave of illness that struck its people.

Walking through the low-tech rural village, I make my way towards the biggest house there, the truck parked next to it like some massive metal steed come from the future. The villagers look at me with weariness in their eyes, quickly getting out of the way of my massive form, but they don't seem to fear me completely.

Seems like Sterns has been telling the local populace about me then.

Entering the house of what is either the chief or the Mayor of this little town, ducking my head in order to not make a hole in the tiny doorframe, I lay my eyes on my partner in crime for the first time in more than three weeks.

He doesn't seem all that happy to see me.

Glancing from me to the man sitting next to him, Sterns leans over, saying a couple of softly whispered words, prompting the man (chief? Mayor? Warlord?) to give a nod, rise from his seat and walk outside, ducking around my form still standing in the door opening.

Regarding me with an unreadable expression on his face, Sterns gestures towards the now vacant seat. Somewhat tense at the silent treatment the scientist is giving me (not that I had expected hugs or anything, Sterns and me were more accomplices than real friends, but his cool demeanour was setting me on edge) I take the seat, placing my trusty backpack between my booted feet.

After a brief silence, Sterns is the one to start talking.

"For a while there I thought either Klaue had left you to get lost in the jungle, Killmonger completely flipped and tried to kill you or Wakanda found a way to actually kill you."

I can't even tell whether he's satisfied at that not happening or disappointed, so I just shrug.

"Klaue kept his word, oddly enough, and Erik managed to keep it together until we were inside El Dorado itself."

"And yet there's a rather glaring lack of either person present."

"Last I saw, Killmonger was kicking the shit out of Wakanda's prince and protector, and Klaue was running off with half their military might behind him. They'll be fine."

At my explanation, Sterns raised an surprised eyebrow (which combined with his enormous forehead gives for some rather… _interesting_ effects).

"Any reason for you not currently sitting on the throne there?"

It wasn't that I hadn't thought about conquering Wakanda for myself. But I was a white mutant, which means that I would never be accepted by their populace and have to spend much of my time either ruling or swatting down rebellions.

My Twelve Step Program (though by now the amount of Steps had more than doubled) also required me to remain mobile, which was impossible if I was King of a country with the intention of actually _staying_ its King.

But the thing that had convinced me the most that I should just leave Killmonger to raise hell in there and probably unleash a civil war, was the fact that it would inevitably reveal the country to the world.

Organizations as S.H.I.E.L.D. had been aware of Wakanda's true nature for years already, but the more public agencies (CIA, Interpol, UN and the like) still had no idea.

The moment they found out there was a country that was decades ahead of the rest of the world?

People would be screaming for open borders and global trade faster than you can say 'Vibranium'.

Wakanda would refuse of course, prompting everyone to immediately ignore their protests and send in their covert groups in to acquire their tech (while grinding Wakanda down with diplomatic bullshit), which would cause Wakanda to kill them, causing international tensions.

Organizations like S.H.I.E.L.D. would be so busy averting World War 3 I could basically continue with my plans unopposed, completely forgotten in the grander scheme of things.

That was the idea, at least.

"The throne looked very uncomfortable. 'Sides, I'm a wanderer at heart: sitting on one chair for the rest of my live just sounds horrible. I'd much rather just travel around the world, you know? See the sights, meet new and interesting people, steal their artefacts, beat the shit out of their protectors, that kinda thing."

Sterns's face remains completely unresponsive in the face of my blatant lie, before he frowns slightly ('slightly' of course being a subjective term in his case, as his eyebrows drawing together caused the facial equivalent of tectonic plates shifting).

"During the time that I've hung around you, I have turned into a mutant, have seen you come back to base shot up and burned, have seen men go up in flames and explosions, and have more guns pointed in my direction than I had ever wanted in my life."

The small hut is filled with an oppressive silence after the scientist's rant, with him staring intently at me, while I'm just tensing my muscles underneath my shirt in preparation for a fight.

Suddenly the tension is drained away as Sterns lets out a mischievous grin.

"So, where are we going next?"

At my incredulous expression, Sterns just snorts in amusement.

"In half a year, I have seen the borders of known science advanced by decades. My brain has reached levels of understanding I couldn't even have dreamed of before, because I simply didn't possess the computing power to even comprehend such levels. If you think I'm backing off now, then you got another thing coming: I'm going to see this through Mr. McCole."

Briefly I feel stunned at my accomplice's words, before I hesitantly put my hand out towards him.

"Partners then?"

Without hesitation, the smaller man grips my hand in a firm handshake, determination written across his face.

"Partners."

I'm more moved than I thought I would, but my new and improved brain quickly provides me with an explanation: as of right now Sterns is the first friend I've made in this universe.

As a child I was completely focused on preparing myself for my Plan, dedicating myself to mastering engineering and programming since Phase One of the MCU was centred so much around Iron Man, making me forgo making connections with other people.

Even during the execution of the Program I had only ever seen other people, including Sterns, as chess pieces, pawns for me to use in order to increase my own power, until there was no force in the universe that could ever harm me.

Until now.

Shaking myself from my contemplations, I let out a grin, opening my backpack.

"You know, I brought a souvenir for you."

"Really? Of all things I had expected from a nation like Wakanda, a gift shop hadn't been one of them."

Grinning at his joke, I withdraw the Panther Habit, and place it on the rough wooden table in-between us. Sterns's eyes widen in amazement at the suit, running nimble fingers across the woven material with an exited look on his face.

Before he can say anything about the advanced suit in front of him, I place my stick on top of the suit. At his questioning look I explain with a grin.

"All of the data I could snatch from the Wakandan labs. That right there, doctor, now has some of the most advanced human technology on the planet stored inside. Enjoy."

"That's _some_ gift shop…" Sterns mutters to himself in awe, before he looks at the Heart-Shaped Herb bushels that I withdraw from my back-pack, one eyebrow raised as I start plucking the glowing leaves (which still freaks me out, by the way).

"This is what makes any ordinary man capable of taking on a Erskine-level enhanced human by just eating a single leaf. So, I'm going to eat _all_ of the leaves. However, due to its mystical properties, I'll probably go into a deep meditative state, so I couldn't ingest it while still in Wakanda."

Hearing the scientist scoff at the mention of magic, I can't help but grin, thinking about the feats displayed by Doctor Strange, who arguably gave the best showing against Thanos amongst all non-god beings (though Iron Man himself fought the Titan with such sheer _awesome_ the Galactic Overlord himself complimented him).

"Do not be so quick to dismiss Magic, Doc. There are species out there who are so advanced that Magic and Science have become indistinguishable from one another, like in the case of the Asgardians. In fact, I'm suspecting that Vibranium itself isn't a naturally occurring material at all. It's properties are something truly unique, and given the mystical element it possesses I'm thinking that the chunk that fell to Earth so long ago instead comes from such an advanced civilization."

That would explain a lot, especially given Wakanda's enormous leaps in technological advancement after finding the miracle metal. Despite the incredible difficulty shaping the kinetic-absorbing metal into complex shapes, Wakanda had gone from wielding sticks and stones to overtaking the European Industrialisation, completely skipping several fundamental steps.

But since its mystic properties apparently included talking to deceased forefathers, there was a possibility that echoes from its original creators seeped through enough through the Astral Plane in order to give them the necessary knowledge. It would also explain the alien feel that El Dorado had to it, if its citizens were influenced by hyper-advanced aliens on a subconscious level.

During my musings, I've finished plucking all of the leaves (around 40 to 50 in total) and gather them in my massive hands in a little heap.

Sterns regards me warily, still mulling over what I had just told him, rubbing his chin as he looks at the glowing, mutated leaves in my hands.

"How are you-"

CHOMP!

"What is wrong with you!? You just don't put _glowing foreign plants_ inside your mouth like that! What if you turn out to be allergic!"

"Ethrmith."

"What?"

Quickly swallowing the leaves down (ugh, so bitter. And… metallic?) I repeat myself.

"Extremis. Even if the leaves have adverse effects on me, I'll survive it."

Briefly looking at me completely gob-smacked, Sterns eventually throws his hands up in the air with a huff of despair, before grabbing the Panther Habit and the stick from the table and making his way outside.

"Just… just lie on the table and try not to die, I guess. Honestly, _some_ people…" the scientist continues muttering as he walks away, grumbling under his breath at my rash actions.

"Sterns!" I call out to him, and as he turns back towards me with a questioning expression on his face I'm overcome with doubt.

Should I tell him about the darker side of me which has been rearing its ugly head more often lately? We just shook on being partners, yes, but do I trust him with this? Can I trust him with something that I barely dare to acknowledge myself?

Yes, I was willing to go to incredible lengths in order to make myself untouchable, but losing my mind was not a sacrifice I was willing to make.

"… Thanks. For wanting to be my friend. I… I haven't really had any, before."

I can tell that Sterns knows that isn't what I was about to say, but after a pause he apparently decides to let it go, just giving me a smile.

"Sure thing Michael. Now go lay on the damned table and _try_ not to burn us all in the worst case of fever in human history, got it?"

And with a laugh he's gone, leaving me chuckling to myself inside the chief's hut.

Getting up, I lie down on the rough table (which groans worriedly as I do, but I don't crash down immediately, so it's all good), fold my hands on my stomach and close my eyes.

Darkness fills my vision as I feel the world steadily falling away, before I feel like I'm floating in a great void, swirling around in an all-encompassing nothingness. Briefly I fear that I've overdosed or something, but before panic can set in (it's only then that I realize _all_ my emotions have been muted) the darkness starts solidifying around me, for a lack of a better word.

Time is utterly meaningless when there's nothing around to experience it, and only after what feels like an eternity, the blackness around me had finished shifting enough that I feel ground underneath my feet.

Which brings my attention back to the fact that I actually have a body again.

Glancing down at what I suspect is my astral projection, I'm extremely confused.

It's my body.

My original body.

The one from my first life, where this place was nothing more than a scene on the silver screen in my local cinema.

But it's off.

It's recognizable as a human body, physically there's nothing wrong with it (other than some slight chubbiness around the middle), but the angles are… _wrong_. Like the breaking of an image when seen through the surface of water, or through a lens or something, only deepened in a dimension I can't really put my fingers on.

Studying it for too long makes me feel dizzy, so I shake my head and look in front of me.

Where I can see an enormous, swirling form made of smoke, two violet stars of light glaring down at me from a height stories above me, the power (and anger) unmistakeable.

There's no change in its facial expression (for all that it really has a face to speak of, with it being a smoking manifestation and what not), but as it speaks the very air reverberates with its words.

 **"PLANEWALKER. YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE. YOU HAVE TAKEN THAT WHICH WAS NEVER MEANT FOR YOU."** Bast, the Panther God, who is responsible for leading Wakandan souls to the afterlife and who guided Bashenga into becoming the First Black Panther, speaks to me, hear words slamming into my brain with an almost physical weight to them.

And she sounds _pissed_.

"Well. Shit."

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** One of the features of the early Iron Man suit used to be rollerskates.


	7. Omake 1: Fast, but mostly Furious

_**Fast, but mostly Furious**_

* * *

Nick Fury wasn't the most pleasant of men. He knew that people thought he ate iron for breakfast, knew that the only people thought they could trust regarding him was that they could trust nothing about him, knew that he had made lesser men weep when he frowned at them.

Fury was fine with that.

You had to make sacrifices to keep the world safe, even if it meant that there were times when the toughest criminals in the underworld literally shrieked in fear when they suddenly found you standing behind them, scowl on your face.

No, Nick was fine with being regarded as _the_ spy, the man who stood like an obsidian monolith at the head of the Aegis of Humanity.

What he wasn't fine with, was someone apparently not having gotten the memo.

"So, what's this I hear about not being able to find Stane's blueprints? You telling me my elite operatives couldn't handle this mission and yet some asshole walked in and stole all his shit?!"

His voice thundered across the deck of the Helicarrier, making teeth rattle around in jaws and coffee mugs shake of their tables, while Sitwell's glasses shattered, making him squeal in pain. People were weeping openly at his visible anger, some of them tearfully calling their parents whether they could arrange their favorite flowers for their imminent burial.

"During the confusion, what seems to be a human, judging from the few images of security footage that we have, walked into the building, spent approximately twenty minutes inside, and then most likely left through one of the back entrances while bits of Stane were being sprinkled around, sir." Agent Hill replied, her back straight enough to make a ruler jump of a bridge in shame, her expression hewn, not from stone, but some material that could make Adamantium take a single look at it and cry out 'bullshit!' in terrified despair.

Growling like a lion being denied its kill, Fury let his single eye roam across his wailing subordinates, none daring to meet the fury of his gaze (other than Coulson, who like always just seemed faintly amused at everything happening around him with an indulging smile on his dopey face).

"Next time, we make goddamn sure that it's _us_ , who walks in and out with the loot, am I clear?"

A chorus of determined cries met him.

"YESSIR!"

"My eyes!"

"Walk it off Sitwell."

* * *

They were standing in one of the Helicarriers conference rooms, Nick standing at the head of the table, several of the highest ranking agents (Barton was there) and diverse department heads (R&D, Containment, Human Recources, Alien Recources, Questionable-Ancestry Recourses) sitting piled on top of each other at the other end of the table, all of them having rapidly scooted their chairs away from Nick's side, leaving the table empty in the middle.

The Director didn't even notice, fuming in rage.

"I hope one of y'all says something before I break my foot in yo ass! This motherfucker did it again people, not only did he-"

*cough*

The unimaginable had happened. The seas drying up, or the sun going out, or the American Government actually telling the truth for once, were all things that were more likely to happen than this monumental event, reality itself doing a spit-take.

Nick Fury had been interrupted.

Miid-rant, even.

Slowly, with the creaking of joints that required oiling, Fury looked over his shoulder, the smoldering inferno of his rage breaking on the icy calmness of Agent Hill's gaze.

Seriously, that woman can give Hoth the chills.

She simply raised an eyebrow sculpted by DaVinci himself, causing Fury to give an annoyed grunt, before turning back towards the gaping flunkies on the other end of the table.

"-or _she_ (the corner of Hill's mouth twisted up no more than a hair's width, a movement small enough it technically still fell in the realm of quantum physics. All the other occupants were floored by this blatant show of exuberance), not only has he or she been stealing shit from Stark for months while being actually getting paid by him to do it, but also managed to run off with Vanko's drones with Arc Reactors, missiles and lasers in them?!"

Wailing in despair at her superior's incalculable rage, one of the women on the other side of the crowded table sprung up, rolling back her chair with such vigor over Sitwell's foot it had suddenly become the only appendage in the world that was two-dimensional and promptly threw herself through the blast-proof window straight out of the flying fortress.

The remaining subordinates gazed after her in envy (with the exception of Sitwell, who was cradling the paper-thin conglomeration of flesh and dress shoe that his foot had become with great heaving sobs).

"FIND HIM! (*cough*) OR HER! BEFORE HE/SHE GETS THE CHANCE TO BLOW ALL OF US TO KINGDOM COME!"

"YESSIR!"

Many a tear was shed.

"My foot!"

"Walk it off Sitwell."

* * *

In a large assembly hall, an army of S.H.I.E.L.D. grunts were all seated in neatly packed rows, most of them whispering to each other in soft, morose tones. They wore suits, and most of them had brought flower, while some of the women went veiled, sniffling softly at the tragedy that was about to unfold.

Silence fell down over the room like EA's stock market after Battlefront II, all hushed whispers drying up faster than… than… nah, I got nothing.

On the stage at the front of the hall, Nick Fury strode in, Hill and Coulson following on his heels (well, Hill was. Coulson was just smiling and looking around. For all anybody knew he had just wandered in coincidentally).

Halting at the pulpit, Fury took a deep breath, before leaning forwards a bit towards the microphone (which leaned back in fear as he did so).

"Now I'm gonna level with y'all, personally I don't blame any of you this time."

At that, people erupted in cheers, people suddenly holding champagne bottles in their hands, while somewhere from above rained down glitters and balloons, and impromptu party starting as a disco ball slowly descended from the ceiling.

"Only _this_ time people."

At Fury's words, the champagne and glitters disappeared, all of the balloons popped simultaneously and the disco ball fell from the ceiling with a crush, trapping a wailing Sitwell underneath it .

"Because Ross is a prick. A massive prick because, not only does he create monsters from leftover super soldier, how did he even get ahold of that?! But then he juices em up on Hulk blood only to let them loose in populated areas! But the worst, the _worst_ part is that asshole who shall not be named, how do we still not know his name?! Managed to run-off with not just doctor Stein but with Blonsky's and Banner's blood and I hope I don't need to spell out to you how bad that is."

People threw themselves off their plastic fold-up chairs, prostrating themselves before their glorious leader, all the while swearing vengeance upon the ineptitude of the Army, some of them holding pitchforks and torches that Fury honestly had absolutely no clue where they suddenly got them from.

He decided he didn't even want to know.

"I want a description sent out to every sketch artist in the country: big, hulking monster, with a hobby for stealing advanced weaponry and science, and just walking away with the loot. We'll catch that bastard this time. Even you lot should be able to spot Hulk Jr. running around."

People raised their pitchforks, torches, spoons and newborn in the air with a fervent roar of devotion, making the foundations of the structure tremble.

"YESSIR!"

"My legs!"

"Walk it off Sitwell."

* * *

Fury was sitting in his darkened office, alone (causing the sun to hesitantly peek over the horizon in the hope not of finally no longer being confronted by the only person to ever beat it in a staring contest. Twice. With only one eye), while on his desk several monitors showed hidden figures.

These were Fury's overlords, the people of the WSC (the We Suck Committee) and they were in the business of grilling the Director on the status of operations regarding the man who kept stealing the toys of various superpeople before they could take it for themselves and monumentally fuck everything up like they were so fond of constantly doing.

"What's he done this time you ask? Hell if I know because apparently state of the art spying technology and men and women trained for years can't even catch this guy on camera, somehow that is possible in this day and age. For all I know he now has the Spear that pierced Christ which somehow let's him mind control people...good thing this is real life and not a comic book."

"Right, right, to be sure. But what are you _going_ to do about him Nicholas. He keeps getting away with all the fun stuff before we can waltz in and claim it for ourselves! My word, Director, we haven't been the cause of mayhem, death and destruction through idiotic decisions for _months_ now! We won't stand for this, you hear me?!"

"Right, I understand you have a schedule to keep but-"

"No, you listen to us here, boy. It is high time you nuke everything. And we do mean _everything_. God, I've wanted to see such pretty big explosions for such a long time, but we could never push it through. But now that he could be hiding anywhere, we can just bomb everywhere! It's genius I tell you, genius!"

For a moment, silence had entered the room, shut the door, boarded up the windows, and settled itself leisurely in Nick's lap, the deafening absence of noise registering itself as a faint ringing noise before the Director could feel his own mouth moving and with a start realized that he has been screaming so loudly, he burst his own ear-drums.

Huffing in frustration, Nick grabbed one of the monitors, heaved it back, and in a move that would draw a tear from even the staunchest of athletes, threw it in a beautifully executed hammer throw straight through three walls, a filing cabinet, a coffee machine, _almost_ into Agent Hill (the spy just turned to look at the flying desk equipment, causing it to swerve around her without disturbing even single lock upon her regal head) and straight through Sitwell's shoulder, cutting off his arm completely.

Ignoring the man's screams (which was blissfully easy to do, now that he was deaf) Fury roared his orders throughout every level of the Helicarrier without even moving from his desk, his voice capable of overpowering hurricanes created by Mjolnir itself.

"Everyone! New orders! Beat the shit of the WSC!"

The flying fortress nearly fell out of the sky with the trampling of boots on metal floors, people reaching for baseball bats and climbing in Mad Max vehicles that Fury could've sworn hadn't been there before.

"YESSIR!"

"My arm!"

"Walk it off Sitwell."

* * *

Like I said, special thanks to FuZzvKiNgZz for inspiring this chapter!


	8. Trial of the Mind

**_Trial of the Mind_**

* * *

" **YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO THE POWER YOU HAVE STOLEN FROM MY PEOPLE.** "

I try to swallow, but find that my throat is too dry as I'm trying to find ways to get myself out of this, at the very least alive and hopefully with the enhancements of the Herb.

For the briefest of milliseconds, the idea of lying flashes through my brain, but the exact moment it does, Bast billows forwards in a great tsunami of smoke faster than the eye can see, and I fall to my knees, unable to draw breath or even remaining standing upright due to the feeling of thousands of tonnes of weight suddenly pressing down on every inch of my body.

I can tell that she isn't even doing anything: this is solely the effect of what I'm beginning to think is my soul being that close to the presence of a god.

So, honesty is probably the best policy here.

"No Bast, I do not." I wheeze out with the last molecules of air that had been present in my compressed lungs, the weight of her aura keeping me from taking a new breath (which a small, disconnected part of me notes is odd, considering this is my soul and thus shouldn't even need to breathe, but it's probably my mind translating whatever metaphysical force her presence is applying to my metaphysical manifestation of self. Or something).

Bast remains perfectly still for a few moments, the two glowing suns of light that represent her eyes glaring balefully down upon my hunched body from stories above me, no pity to be found. Slowly, she retreats from me, allowing her presence to lift enough for me to heave in great gulps of air, but not enough that the weight disappears completely, remaining an ever-present reminder of how precarious my position is.

" **YOU SHALL _NEVER_ BE MY CHAMPION.**"

"W-what… does that… mean?" I manage to gasp out, slowly steadying my breathing, though I remain bent before the Panther Goddess, trying my best not to offend her further.

" **IT MEANS, PLANEWALKER, THAT THE POWER OF THE BLACK PANTHER WILL NOT BE YOURS TO CLAIM. I WILL SLAY YOU WHERE YOU STAND FOR YOUR CRIMES AGAINST WAKANDA.** "

Indignation threatens to well up inside me, but a gentle flex of the bands still pressing down around my chest and on my shoulder quickly disabuses me of that notion. Still, I can't let this go without some semblance of protest.

"I ate the plant! Its powers belong to me now! Why do you get a say in who is allowed to use its power and who is not?!"

" **BECAUSE I AM A GODESS, TIED TO THE VERY LAND THAT GIVES THE HERB ITS POWERS. AND NOW, IT'S TIME FOR YOUR STORY TO COME TO A CLOSE.** "

With that, Bast rears up, a great billowing skyscraper of smoke and shadows, her purple eyes rising infinitely high, a paw as large as a suburban house raised in preparation to smite me into oblivion.

"WAIT!"

It's only after a few tense seconds (during which Bast has yet to kill me) that I hesitantly open one eye, realizing that I had been the one to yell. Quickly continuing in a waterfall of words before I can lose my nerve (or life), I try to beg the Panther Goddess.

"I can do better! I can prove myself worthy of its power! Please don't kill me!"

High up in the darkness above me, Bast tilts her head.

" **YOU THINK YOU CAN PROVE YOURSELF TO BE WORTHY OF THE SAME POWERS GIFTED TO MY CHAMPIONS? AFTER ALL THAT YOU HAVE INFLICTED UPON MY CHOSEN PEOPLE? WHY SHOULD I EVEN ENTERTAIN THE THOUGHT?** "

"Because…" I start off in a yell, only trail off in a whisper, as I come to a realization.

Bast was right. What reasons had I given her for her to accept my desperate plea?

Precisely zero.

Looking up at the enormous goddess that is about to erase me from existence, there's only one thing that I can think of to say.

"Because I don't want to die."

The reveal of the motivation that had dominated my new life from the moment I was reborn is enough to stay Bast's smiting hand for just a little longer, so I continue talking in a soft tone of voice.

"Ever since I woke up in this universe, that's what I've been most afraid of. And so I tried to do absolutely everything that I could in order to fight that. I've lied, I've stolen, I've _killed_ in order to keep myself as safe from dying as I could possibly be."

I give a weak chuckle.

"And now trying to advance that goal I get killed because of it. But you know what? I'm not done yet. I don't want to die, and I'm sure as hell not just gonna keep quiet and drop dead because you want me to! Go ahead, punish me for my sins, or test my worthiness for the Herb's power and see for yourself that I _earned_ gaining its might! But if you decide to kill me anyways, then you better make goddamned sure you get it right, because I _swear_ I'm gonna claw my way out of the depths of whatever Hell you'll send me to, stronger than before, and then I'll come back here and _kick_ _your ass_!"

What I'm doing is dumb. I know that it's dumb. Suicidal, even. Who goes and yells at the goddess who was already pissed off at him to begin with? I think quite a few people honestly, when faced with imminent destruction.

There are those who would either bow their heads and take it, or wail, or pray, or remain stoically silent, or they would start raging against the heavens in their final moments.

Apparently, I belonged to that latter category.

For a moment time was stretched out into what felt like eternity, Bast's pools of purple power staring into my own eyes, nothing showing what the goddess was thinking about the tantrum I had just delivered.

Then she lowered her paw, settling on her haunches, a smoky tail the size of a freight train wrapping imperiously around her.

" **YOU CHALLENGE ME… TO CHALLENGE YOU?** "

It's the first and probably only time that I hear a goddess that sounds confused of all things, before I shrug off the thought and square my shoulders and lift my chin.

"You want justice for what I did in Wakanda, I want the power of the Heart-Shaped Herb. So here's what I suggest: a test. If I complete the test, you'll let me go with the power of the Heart-Shaped Herb, but if I fail it then I'll accept whatever punishment you see fit, even death."

Bast hummed in thought, the twin suns that were her eyes slowly burning in contemplation.

" **I FAIL TO SEE HOW THIS WOULD BENEFIT ME PLANEWALKER. SINCE THERE IS NOTHING STOPPING ME FROM METING OUT PUNISHMENT AS I SEE FIT RIGHT NOW.** "

And with those words, the Panther Goddess flexes the tiniest amount of her immense power, and suddenly I'm on my knees again, the air forcibly pushed from my lungs as it feels like a hydraulic press is currently clamping down on my torso.

Right, just because she's holding off on vaporizing me on the spot doesn't mean she suddenly isn't completely pissed off anymore.

"P-point taken." I wheeze out, after which the vice-like grip on my lungs is abruptly removed, leaving me to gracelessly flop to the floor in a gasping heap.

I clearly need to up my offer.

"Those that are granted the power of the Heart-Shaped Herb are to become your champion, correct? If I complete your trials, then I shall have proven that I have what it takes to be one as well. So, after you let me go, you may give me one order to complete and I shall try to fulfil it to the best of my abilities."

The lights in Bast's eyes briefly increase in brightness, before dimming down to their usual inferno of violet power, but I know what it means: despite her rage, I've peaked her interest.

" **ONE ORDER, AND I SHALL GUIDE AND STAY YOUR HAND AS I SEE FIT AS YOU ATTEMPT TO COMPLETE IT.** "

"Three orders, but you don't interfere."

A deep rumbling sound rattles not just the floor I'm standing on (almost sending me crashing to the ground again), it shakes the very air around us, this entire dimension reflecting Bast's annoyance.

" **DO NOT FORGET, PLANEWALKER. YOU ARE IN NO POSITION TO MAKE DEMANDS HERE. I AM NOT ONE TO BE BARGAINED WITH AS IF I WERE SOME COMMON MARKET WENCH PADDLING HER WARES. I HAVE DECIDED, AND YOU HAVE ONLY TO FOLLOW.** "

Bast doesn't shout: she doesn't need to as her point is made just fine at her normal volume. I quickly decide to follow her advice and refrain from weaselling my way through deals and clauses in order to advance my chances.

Instead, I'll just have to be content with not being turned into cosmic space-dust on the spot.

"I bow to your wisdom, oh Great Bast." I say demurely, bowing at the waist for good measure, trying to appease the angered god in front of me.

" **THERE SHALL BE TWO TRIALS: ONE OF THE MIND AND ONE OF THE BODY. SUCCEED IN BOTH, AND I SHALL ALLOW YOU TO LEAVE THIS PLACE. FAIL, AND YOU WILL DIE A DEATH SO TERRIBLE, THE STARS THEMSELVES WILL SPEAK IN TERRIFIED WHISPERS OF YOUR DEMISE."**

Swallowing down my primal urge to gibber in fear at the implied threat, I hesitantly straighten from by bow, though I try to maintain my submissive posture as I softly ask my question.

"When does my trial start?"

" **RIGHT NOW. YOUR GUIDE HAS ALREADY ARRIVED.** "

I raise my eyebrows in surprise at that.

"Guide? Who's my guide?"

"Me."

Turning around in a shocked whirl at the hauntingly familiar voice behind me, I can feel the blood drain from my face as I lay eyes on my guide for the first time.

"You…" I softly whisper, completely floored.

Gazing at me with an imperious tilt to her regal head, Ramonda, former Queen Mother of Wakanda, the woman I had killed in front of her own daughter, stands before me, not a blemish on her skin.

"How…"

"Bast guides the souls of the Wakandans that have passed on to the Green Veld, where they are free forever. I asked to wait before entering the blessed Djalia, since I had unfinished business that needed to be concluded first."

The look she sends me makes it clear just what (or rather, _who_ ) she means with 'unfinished business'.

" **LET THE FIRST TRIAL COMMENCE.** "

And with those words, reality itself stretches and heaves, and with a spinning blur of colours and motion, while remaining perfectly still, the dark savannah we had been standing in had suddenly been replaced with a burnt out pier, the Panther Goddess herself nowhere to be seen, Ramonda standing next to me.

Briefly the disorientation gets to me, making me lose my footing (while the Queen's clothes aren't even ruffled) but the scenery quickly grabs my attention, since I recognize this charred husk, despite the vague, shadowy look everything has, showing that we are still in the Astral Realm, only viewing a different time and place.

It's where I ambushed Killian.

"What is this? What are you trying to show me?" I ask suspiciously, glancing back over my shoulder at Ramonda, who merely inclines her head towards the side.

Following her gaze, I only now spot the emergency workers that are bustling around on the pier, all of them covered in soot, with exhausted expressions on their faces.

Most of them are currently busy with placing body bags on stretchers.

"Would you look at this one? Both her spine and face are gone Jacob. _Gone_. What kind of monster does that kinda thing?"

Turning around I watch as two guys in medical overalls are busy extracting the remains of the berserker woman from the twisted base of the fallen crane I had smashed her into.

"I don't know Jerry." The man answered, his tone wearied, his posture tired.

"You know how we found her: whatever kind of monster did this to her, I'm betting she ain't exactly an angel herself neither. Just be glad those freaks are killing off each other on piers rather than in neighbourhoods. Less chance of you dyin' that way."

With a grunt and a heave, the corpse is finally freed from the destroyed metal and placed in a body bag nearby. As the elder Jacob starts zipping up the bag, Jerry straightens up, stretching his back as he looks down on his partner.

"That's harsh man. Real harsh."

Jacob only pauses in his work in order to give Jerry a raised eyebrow, before he frowns, motioning his partner to help him lift the bag.

"Right, I forgot. You weren't there for the clean-up in Harlem."

With a heave, the bagged woman is placed on a stretcher, and as they make their way towards the ambulances on the other end of the pier, Jerry looks over his shoulder at the elder man.

"Why? That bad?"

"You ain't even know the half of it kid. Two freaks, tearing up the streets in the meanest slugfest of the century. Two days later, and we're still finding body parts in the rubble and car wrecks. Sure, Army got its hands burned for the mess, but that's too little too late. I had to bandage more scrapes and cuts in those 48 eight hours than nearly 40 years on the job."

Jerry seems to take his partner's words into consideration, before Jacob gives his final two cents.

"Mark my words kid. World's changing, with freaks crawlin' up outta the woodwork everywhere, and the little guy is the one that gets hurt for it. Guys like us, ordinary folk? All we can do is sit tight, wait for hell to blow over and then pick up the pieces."

And with those words they turn a corner and are out of my sight.

"What an interesting word choice. Monster. _Freak_. How does that make you feel, I wonder, to know those are the words people think of when they look upon your works?"

I growl at the cool voice of the Queen of Wakanda, whirling around to face her.

"What the hell is this? Is this supposed to be some sort of guilt-trip or something? Killian was going to betray me and if left to his own devices would commit acts of terror on these people, and that woman nearly _killed_ me! So if you're expecting me to feel sorry for them, then you can guess again, Your Highness. Only thing I feel is satisfaction at getting them, before they could get me."

Ramonda doesn't even bat an eyelash at my rant, simple crossing her arms, her emotion schooled into an impenetrable mask of calm.

"Yes, I had somewhat suspected you might feel this way. But what about the people in their lives? No person is truly alone in this world, Mr. McCole, not even those villains. What happens to those who remain behind, after you've torn their loved ones from their life? Let's find out."

"Wai-!"

Before I can finish my sentence, the kaleidoscope of dizzying colours is back again, and with a stumble we come to a stop in a rundown neighbourhood, graffiti covering the walls with windows boarded up and litter filling the street.

As I hear South-African being spoken, I think I know where we are. My suspicions are confirmed when the corrugated sheet that is serving as a door in one of the decrepit houses is thrown open, a child no more than twelve storming out, his clothes dirtied and his face gaunt.

Following him out is a wailing woman who I assume to be his mother.

"Please! My boy, don't do this! We can find another way, _any_ way, just not this! _Please_ Axel, don't go to that man!"

"And do what!?" the child rears around, screaming, though I can see the tear tracks on his face.

"Watch you and Nikki starve!? Dad's not gonna come back mom, and I ain't sitting around waiting to die too! I'm gonna join up with Declan's group, Ethan and Luke already joined so you can't stop me!"

And with that, the boy runs off, bare feet slapping against broken cobblestones, leaving his sobbing mother to fall against the doorframe of her hovel, sliding down to her knees in grief.

Behind her, a four year old girl, wearing a tattered, worn down sundress hesitantly approaches her mother, laying a tiny hand upon her arm.

"Mamma? Where's Askel goin'?"

With a cry of pain, the bereaved widower (and I _know_ , deep down in my gut, who is responsible for that) throws her arms around her remaining child in a desperate hug, her body wracked with sobs.

At first I wonder why nobody is reacting at the drama unfolding before me, but it just takes one look at the downcast expressions, those haunted eyes, those too-thin bodies, and I have my answer.

This has become the norm for these people.

"Well, Mr. McCole. What has this woman done against you, that she deserves such a fate?" Ramonda asks as she steps up next to me, but I don't move, my expression sombre as I keep my eyes fixed on the crying mother and daughter in front of me.

It takes a while for me to answer, but when I do, I deliver it in measured, thoughtful tones.

"She doesn't. _Nobody_ deserves this. But you're mistaken if you think this is my fault. Her husband was a criminal, assaulting and robbing people while armed with a submachine gun. There was never a way their tale wasn't going to end this way: they're a product of the world they live in."

The Queen tilts her head a bit at that, giving me a sidelong look.

"And yet, with all that power that you have hoarded for yourself in your hunger for yet more power, haven't you had the means to _change_ that world? Preventing such a tragedy from happening in the first place?"

At that I turn towards her, my face drawn in rage.

"Don't you _dare_ give me that crap! How long has Wakanda sat on its advanced technology? How many cures were withheld from the rest of the world? How many wars could have been prevented? How many lives, over thousands of years, could have been saved had Wakanda not decided to retreat into the shadows, hiding underneath the safety of their force-field, closing its eyes to the pain of the world?!"

The Queen rears back as if slapped, before her nostrils widen in fury, a fire exploding in her eyes (in the figural sense, not the literal Extremis-version), but as she opens her mouth she seems to think on my words, and slowly deflates, gazing at the now softly sniffling mother with a drawn expression on her face.

"Perhaps our ancestors were wrong to hide our nation; perhaps it takes far more than just a single person or even a country to change the world. It would take _everyone_ working together towards a better tomorrow, in order to make sure that such a pain-filled world shall become a thing of the past. Wouldn't you agree?"

Both of us remain silent as the mother, now with no more tears to shed, shakily stands up, lifting her sleeping daughter in her arms, shuffling back inside the small home.

"Perhaps. The world isn't so easily healed, not even with the legendary powers of Vibranium." I concede.

"But there is one thing where you are wrong, Mr. McCole. You assume you bear no guilt to this woman's hurt, because that is simply the world she lives in. But what about those who do not live in such a world, who believe that such pain is not something that they should ever had to live with?"

Before I can ask what she means, the scenery blurs by once again, but this time I managed to resist the breakneck speeds a bit better, and other than missing a step when we arrive, I've come out reasonably unruffled.

The Queen of course still emits an air of regal perfection, not a single hair out of place.

We have arrived in a graveyard, and a little bit further down the gravel path I can see a small group of people clustered around a hole in the ground, a coffin covered in flowers resting above it.

The sight of people in military dress-uniforms clues me into who is most likely inside the coffin.

Not waiting for Ramonda I make my way towards the group, and a picture of a smiling young man in army fatigues confirms my suspicion.

It's the guy who I stabbed in the throat with his own knife.

The moment flashes before my eyes, replaying the scuffle, the mad grab for the blade, and then blood spattering across the visor of my helmet.

One man steps forwards and with a choked voice tries to speak a few words, his face filled with grief and with a sudden start I realize I'm looking at the Frank Castle from 2011, before his family is killed and he is shot in the head and flat lined for a few seconds, before coming back to life, being literally too angry to die.

"Tom was, uhh. Tom was a real good kind of guy. You know? The kind of guy that didn't hesitate in having your back. That was Tom, that was."

As Frank tries to work through the eulogy, I let my eyes roam across the assembled people, seeing the woman and children in tears, while the men try to remain stoic, some of them having tear tracks on their faces.

I can hear Ramonda step up beside me, can _feel_ her eyes on me, so I answer her question before she even gets the chance to ask it.

"Those three soldiers… they knew the life they chose, knew the risks involved. They might not have known they were going up against Blonsky as he was, but they were there at Cornwell University: they knew what gamma-monsters are capable of. I didn't want to kill them, but that's the reality of a fight."

Inclining her head to what appears to be Tom's wife, the Wakandan Queen's tone is colder than ice.

"I wonder what _she_ would say to that. Or what anyone currently standing here would say."

I know what at least _one_ of them will say: nothing at all.

Frank would just put a bullet between my eyes.

I remain silent as the music starts and the coffin with the soldier whose neck I slit is slowly lowered to the ground. It somehow feels wrong, watching that happen. Like the poor man is punished for dying, and gets trapped inside a box and buried in a dark, wet hole in the ground as a result.

Right then and there, I decide that if I do bite it (either by failing these challenges, or later down the road by Thanos-snap or Hulk-smash), then I'll ask to not be buried. Put my body in a pod and shoot it into the sun or something.

As the dull thuds of earth being thrown onto the coffin continue to drone on, I think to myself that I really don't care what happens to me during my quest for Omnipotence.

As long as it isn't this.

As the last shovel of dirt is thrown onto the fresh burial mound, Tom's wife has apparently used up all of her strength, falling into her chair with a soft, chocked up gasp. Frank is there, awkwardly gripping her shoulder, before glaring at where his Army buddy is now entombed, waiting to rot away while his family has to find a way to go on without him in their lives.

"We're gonna catch him Mary. The bastard that did this, he ain't getting away with it. Not with this. You hear me, Mary? Not with this he ain't." Frank murmurs to the woman, but she's completely unresponsive, hollow eyes fixed on the resting place of her husband.

The man that _I_ took from her.

"Well, Mr. McCole. Where is your defence now?"

This time the silence stretches the longest of all since the Queen has taken me on this Christmas Carol rip off, but she refuses to break the silence, forcing me to work through my thoughts and emotions, to examine facets of my being that I had been comfortable with pushing away and out of sight.

It was torture, and I started to understand why Bast thought merely revisiting the people I had killed would suffice as the first trial.

Nobody likes being confronted with the worse sides of themselves.

"I stand by what I said. The man died in battle, knowing when he signed up that that would be a possibility. It's unfortunate that he died fighting me, and if I could do it over I would probably have done things differently, but the fact remained that he died and I got away with what I needed."

I believe in the words I tell her, but they feel hollow, even to my own ears.

Turning away from the grieving widow and fuming Hank, I look at Ramonda, my face lined with the weight of the decisions I have made now resting on my conscious.

"We're done here. Take me to the next one."

I almost expect the scene of our next location. We're standing in the Palace Hall in the Golden City of Wakanda. The hall isn't as crowded as when I, Erik and Klaue were led before T'Chaka, only about a dozen people standing in front of the throne.

And sitting on the throne, clad in royal robes and with burning eyes, sits Killmonger.

While I'm not surprised that Killmonger won his fight with T'Challa (the Herb puts a person on par with an Erskine-supersoldier. Extremis puts a person on par with an _Iron Man_ suit) I am somewhat surprised that the rest of the Wakandans didn't kill Erik on the spot after winning his fight.

These people _really_ adhere to their traditions.

There are several people standing in front of Erik's throne, and from what I can make out of their muttered dialogue, I think that they have some sort of advisory role, and they seem to discuss the distribution of Vibranium, as well as production levels within Wakanda.

A man I don't recognize is standing next to Erik, holding a hushed conversation with him, though since I'm currently on a different plane than them I simply walk up to the pair unseen.

"Another operative lost, Your Highness, in China this time. Apparently one of ours got into a fight with a Loyalist War Dog and they both blew their cover, so Hong Kong came in and killed them both in a massive shoot-out."

Killmonger growls deep in his chest, and smoke starts to come from his robes at his increased anger.

"How many War Dogs does that make?"

"Fifteen Your Highness. It appears that your cousin has managed to make contact with several groups of War Dogs while we were still containing the damage to the city, and intends to wage a guerrilla war against your reign."

Letting out a deep breath of air (hot enough to force the advisor to back away a few steps), Erik folds his hands underneath his chain, a thoughtful frown on his face as he considers his options.

"And the status within Wakanda?"

"We have the power, my lord, as we control both the military and the mining and production operations. The outer tribes bow to your victory over your cousin and recognize you as leader of the Golden Tribe, but within the city… the former king, may Bast guide his soul, was much beloved, Your Highness. Of course, the reveal of his crimes has done much to correct that, but people's hearts are not so easily swayed."

"Do we need to fear a revolt?"

"Not unless they receive an outside backer, my lord. The return of your cousin, or one of those foreign dogs that have been sniffing around our borders. But for now, your reign is secure as King. There are quite a few people who have always viewed Wakanda's retreat from the world as a mistake. We are eager for you to lead us out of the darkness and take our rightful place upon the world-stage."

As Ramonda walks past me, my attention is dragged away from the fruits of my labour, following the Queen's stricken gaze and my eyes land on a furious looking Shuri who is hiding in the shadows at the back of the hall.

As Erik desperately tries to consolidate his power in a land which apparently thought that a duel for the throne was a legitimate way of succession, Shuri merely turns around and runs out of the Hall, feet slapping against the tiles with tears streaming down her face.

Ramonda immediately follows her daughter, not sparing anyone else (including me) a second glance, and with some idea of what's about to come, I follow the Queen through her Palace, passing both flurries of activity and passageways that are completely abandoned.

It takes nearly fifteen minutes of walking, during which neither one of us has spoken so much as a word, before we arrive at a room in what I'm guessing is the wing housing the living quarters of the Golden Tribe.

Without breaking her stride, Ramonda walks straight through the closed door, the ebony wood rippling slightly as she does, but otherwise showing no effect. After a second of hesitation I clench my jaw, close my eyes, and step through the door as well.

When I open my eyes again, I'm confronted with what I expected to see.

A crying Shuri, who is running around her room in a whirlwind of hurried movements, stuffing a large back-pack to the brim with various odds and ends whose functions I cannot even begin to guess at.

While Shuri sobs as she grabs a photo picturing her family with shaking hands, I turn towards the Queen, who is displaying the first sign of emotion during my entire trial, her lip quivering and a single tear rolling down her face.

This time she doesn't ask me a question, and I allow her the small comfort of silence as we look on as her little girl runs to her sheets and starts ripping them up.

It's clear: we're looking at a break-out.

Shuri's escape is even impressive on some level, since she managed to get out of her room and down two floors before she gets spotted by a guard, who sounds the alarm. I suspect that Shuri knows the palace like the back of her hand though, because even with her vision blurred by tears, she manages to evade patrols by hiding in all kinds of nooks and crannies that I hadn't even realized were there.

She even uses three secret passage ways on her mad dash out of the Palace.

After nearly twenty minutes of following the fleeing child, me and Ramonda having no trouble keeping up with her daughter, Shuri finally managed to escape the Palace by using a barely used service corridor which opened out at the back of the complex.

From there she abandoned all stealth and just sprinted towards the treeline, hiding in its underbrush even as Killmonger's guards were still turning the Palace upside down.

After her successful escape, me and Ramonda kept following the little girl for the next two days, and during that time, the Queen hadn't once taken her eyes of her daughter that she could never hold in her arms again.

It was on the third day that happened what I assumed the Queen had intended to show me all along, though she had dropped us in early, probably not being able to control herself wanting to see more of her daughter one last time.

Because on the third day, Shuri fell into a trap.

It was even such a ridiculous movie-trap as well, the one where a character steps on a hidden mechanism and suddenly they find themselves strung up in a net like the world's weirdest piñata.

Ramonda stiffened when her daughter was hoisted in the air, screaming in fear and shock as she went, but the Queen actually growled and bared her teeth when a familiar figure stepped out from the underbrush.

"Well well. What do we have here?" Ulysses Klaue asks with a grin as he looks at the Wakandan princess.

"Let me go!" Shuri cries, but it just makes Klaue laugh, which in turn causes Ramonda to clench her fists.

"Now, why would I go and do something like that, little girl?" the arms dealer asks, scratching the beard that has been growing since his flight from the Wakandan capital.

Briefly Shuri is silenced, before her eyes flash across Klaue's outfit, the bags under his eyes, the way his pants are loose around his hips, his chapped lips. Then she grins triumphantly.

"Because I can show you the way out."

Klaue narrows his eyes in suspicion, slowly approaching his catch, his remaining hand resting on the machete he has hanging in his belt.

"What you mean with that girl?"

"You're lost aren't you?"

Klaue growls at the question, but it just causes Shuri's smile to grow even wider.

"You _are_ , aren't you?"

"Oh give me a break, _kind_ , it's been thirty years since the last time I had to run away from Wakanda, and I didn't exactly had the time to take in the scenery then." Klaue mutters annoyed, but Shuri doesn't seem to even care she's pissing off a world class criminal that currently has her captured.

"But _I_ do know the way! I know _all_ the ways into and out of Wakanda! You cut me down and take me with you, and I'll lead you away from here."

"And why would a little girly like you be so desperate as to be willing to come along with a vicious thief like meself in order to run away from her comfy life in the palace, eh?" Klaue asks mockingly, though I can see the gleam of interest in his eyes as he's suddenly presented with the option of having a guide out of this endless jungle.

At the man's question, Shuri's lip starts wavering, while tears start welling up in her eyes. Furiously wiping her sleeve across her face, the 11-year old haltingly answers the arms dealer.

"There's nothing there for me. Killmonger almost killed by brother until my dad threw himself on that creep… and then my brother had to go and run, father was _begging_ him to, even as he was holding down Killmonger… A-and then, K-Killmonger killed him… And I didn't even _see_ it, because this, t-this _monster_ kidnapped me and mom! And he… and he… he k-killed her too. I lost… everything." The little girl softly says, her speech interrupted by hiccups and sobs.

Klaue is remarkably silent throughout it all, though I can almost see the gears in his head whirring away at top speed. Then apparently having settled on a course, he grabs the machete and in a single swing-

"NO!"

-slams it through the rope that had been holding up the net Shuri had been caught in, letting her fall to the forest floor with a squawk.

I glance at Ramonda from the corner of my eye, seeing her arms outstretched as if to stop Klaue's swing, before she slowly lowers them, her attention completely focused on her daughter, who has freed herself from the tangles of the net that covered her, standing in front of Klaue in torn clothes, with twigs in her hair and mud caked on her face.

For a moment there's silence in the small clearing, before Klaue bends down on one knee, his tone softer than I had ever imagined the criminal even capable of.

"That monster. The monster that took you and your mamma? He took something from me as well."

"What?"

Lifting the stump of his arm, Klaue gives a chuckle at the girl's wide-eyed look of shock.

"He took my arm, threatening to take even more if I didn't give him all of my treasure. It took me _thirty_ years to gather it all and then one night, that monster walks in and takes my arm _and_ my treasure. But…"

"But…?" Shuri asks, having fallen for Klaue's sob story hook, line and sinker, causing the criminal to show yellowed teeth in a vicious grin.

"But I think we can help each other. You see, _kind_ , you know all of the passages into and out of Wakanda, but how much do you know about the rest of the world? Not much, I imagine."

Fire sparks in Shuri's eyes, and the girl places her tiny fists on her hips.

"I know lots! I know all the names of all the countries and places!"

"Bah, that's just boring school stuff! But do you know the _real_ parts of the world? Where all the _real_ borders are? Which area is claimed by which Cartel? Where crime ends, and government begins?"

At that, Shuri gives a hesitant shake, and Klaue gives an indulgent smile, though I can see the ruthlessness in his eyes as he keeps up his act.

"The world out there is dangerous, _kind_. But _I_ can help you. Keep you safe. All I need, is one thing, just this tiny little thing, why it's not even worth mentioning really…"

"What is it? What do you need?"

At Shuri's question, Klaue glances around with exaggerated motions, before leaning in a little bit closer, giving her a come-hither motion, and the naïve Princes leans in as well.

"Access. I need access to Wakanda, or at the very least its tech."

Almost reflexively a frown settles on Shuri's face, but Klaue immediately straightens, brushing the little girl off as he turns around, one hand rubbing his neck as he muses out loud.

"Ach, what am I saying. There's no way a little girl like you could help me with that. After all, I need it for a secret, a _very big_ secret, and little girls really wouldn't be able to help me with it…"

Indignation flashes in Shuri's eyes at the dismissal, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Sure I can help! I'm the smartest person I know! Tell me your secret! Tell me!"

Half-turning with lidded eyes, Klaue lets out smile at the fuming child.

"Oh, I was going to try and kill that monster."

Giving a theatrical sigh while Shuri's eyes widen in shock, Klaue turns his back on her again, shaking his head in defeat.

"But I can't kill him with what I have now. No, no, that wouldn't work at all. To kill a monster _that_ dangerous, well, that would require some really powerful weapons. Weapons like, say Wakanda has perhaps? But it's no use, obviously you can't help me, and without your knowledge of Wakanda I'll never be able to get it. Ah well, I guess I just have to give up and let the monster go-"

"NO!"

From where we're standing, me and Ramonda can see the cruel smile from on the criminals face, before he schools it into a wondering, innocent expression, turning back around to face the murderous looking eleven-year-old.

"No? What 'no'?"

"I won't let him get away. I'm gonna _kill_ him." Shuri hisses, and I can tell that the sheer anger and conviction in the child's tone takes even Klaue off guard, though he barely lets it show.

"Really? My what a coincidence! But no, no, no, I can't let a little girl try and kill _that_ monster! I used to be a criminal, but I'm not _evil_! No, you cannot help me-"

"Yes I can! I'll lead you in and out of Wakanda, so you can get what you need to kill him. But I have one condition." Shuri demands and Klaue gives an indulgent chuckle, victory shining in his eyes.

"What's your condition then _kind_?"

Shuri surprises all adults present when she fearlessly walks up to the arms dealer and pokes him in the chest with her tiny finger.

"You help me get stronger. The best teachers. The best weapons. I'm good with inventing, so you promise to get me what I need for it. And when you track down the monster that killed mom, you'll take me with you."

Klaue is silent at the Princess' declaration, and I can see some measure of respect rise within him as he stares at the amount of determination the little girl is displaying. After a few tense seconds, he gives a reluctant nod, holding out a grimy hand for Shuri to shake.

"Deal."

There's no hesitation as Shuri slips her hand in Klaue's bigger one, her grip firm and steady.

"Deal."

And with a shake of their hands, Klaue straightens and turns away from the little girl and walks slowly into the underbrush.

"Well? You coming? The monster isn't going to wait for us to show up and kill it you know?"

"Wait, I'm coming, I'm coming!" Shuri calls after the arms dealer, picking up her dirtied back-pack and running off after him.

"You know, _I_ should walk in front. _I'm_ the one who knows the way after all." The girl's voice drifts back to me and Ramonda, Klaue giving a rumbling answer we can't make out, though Shuri's indignant squeak reaches us clearly.

And then the clearing is still and silent.

For about a second.

Then Ramonda whirls around, slapping me across the face.

As I rub my dimly stinging cheek (absently noting that, like with the visuals of my Astral Projection, this sensation to seemed to come from very far away in an angle that hurts to think about) the Queen Mother stands in front of me, her entire form trembling with rage.

"And what excuse do you have for _this_?! How will you rationalize throwing my country in disarray? How can you possibly justify driving my daughter in the arms of such a disgusting _thief_?"

I wait with answering the irate Queen until she's managed to collect herself a bit, though the anger doesn't fade from her eyes.

"I _needed_ to know what your people knew about Vibranium. Howard Stark was one of the smartest people of his time, and all that he managed to do with the Vibranium he had on hand was turn it into a Frisbee."

Granted, that Frisbee had gone on to become _the_ most iconic weapon both in this universe and my old one, but still.

"I'm not in this to save the planet, Your Highness, but neither do I want to end up standing amongst its ashes. My entry into your country would either result in Erik's immediate death, in which case I would have to run like hell. If he was allowed within ten feet of your husband however, then either he would kill him or be killed. Either way he would provide ample distraction and he has. Him actually managing to claim the throne is not something I had expected, but that is a result of _your_ customs and traditions, not a fault of my own."

Clearly the Queen isn't convinced by my arguments if her flaring nostrils are anything to go by, so I try a different approach.

"Think of it this way. After consolidating his powerbase, Killmonger will most likely try to expand: there's no better way for a ruler to become popular than having a couple of victories under his belt. Now, I have no idea how much he'll end up conquering and honestly I don't much care, but I can guarantee that the living conditions within his borders will be vastly better than they are currently in those areas. But with the rise of Wakanda comes a rise of tech-levels in those countries, while an increase in the length of her borders means more and more people slipping through the cracks, taking technology back to their own people to reverse-engineer. As a whole, the development of the world will increase."

"At what cost? Global conflict on a scale that we have only seen twice before? How much blood must be spilt before the 'positives' of your plan become reality for those other than yourself?" the Queen spits at me, and though I struggle to put my answer in words, I can feel my conviction growing as I reflect on all that I have done in this universe.

"There has never been advancement in this world that hasn't been achieved at the expense of someone else. That's just the Law of Equal Exchange. And I will advance myself further and further at the expense of whoever stands in my way. And when all is said and done, and I stand victorious above the broken bodies of the most terrible evils in this dimension? Then Earth shall have the greatest champion in the entire goddamned universe. _That's_ their positive, your Highness."

The Queen draws back at my answer, a disapproving look on her face, but I merely feel confidence as my answer truly sinks in with me.

I had been so focused on gathering personal power that I had lost sight of any long-term goals. I was going to need a purpose _beyond_ becoming omnipotent, or within months of actually achieving that level of power I'd probably try to blow my own brains out in order to try and alleviate the boredom.

The likes of the Collector and the Grandmaster had possibly only survived since the beginning of the universe by being consumed by their obsession to the point it governed every moment of their immortal lives.

Becoming a champion to Earth seemed like as good a way as any to spend the rest of my infinite time in this universe.

I feel something click (it's hard to put into words, but there's definitely something shifting in the metaphysical manifestation of my soul) inside me as my realization fully sets in and I can see Ramonda respond to it as well, her lips thinning to the point they're one flat line.

"You have faced your past deeds and remained firm in your resolve. You are ruthless, but not without mercy. You are guilt-free, but not incapable of remorse. Bast has judged you, and you have not been found wanting. You have completed your first trial."

I suppose that hearing that I was half-way there to not getting my soul obliterated by an irate Panther Goddess should have me jumping with joy, but as I'm emotionally strung out, I simply give the Queen a serious nod.

Ramonda glares at me with an unreadable expression on her face, before turning her head away from me, looking at where her daughter ran off after Klaue in her quest for vengeance.

"My daughter _will_ come for you. She's smart, far smarter than anyone I know. If she's allowed to grow, then she'll eventually be able to hunt you down. She _will_ kill you."

She glances at me as she speaks and I can hear her unspoken question.

Will I go after her daughter and put a stop to her before she becomes a danger to me?

It's not that I don't consider it at all, but I rather quickly decide against doing so. For all that she might become a threat to me later, right now she's a kid. An angry, scared and hurt kid that wants my head on a platter, but still just a kid.

Then there's also the fact that I'd have to track her down first. I don't know if the scenes that Ramonda have shown me are all in the past or in real-time. Hell, given the weirdness of this dimension and the fact a God is involved, there's even a chance I'm looking at the future. Which means I have absolutely no clue where she and Klaue currently are, or where they will end up going and considering the bee-hive Africa has become, I rather get out of here sooner than later.

So let her grow; I would as well. And in five to ten years, we would see which one of us had grown the most.

So I merely shrug at Ramonda's words, and repeat the words I had told Killmonger what seemed to be so long ago.

"She will try."

Apparently catching the hidden meaning of my answer, the Queen merely gives a nod, her eyes still fixed on where her daughter disappeared as she addresses me.

"I go to the Green Veld now, where my soul shall join my ancestors and my beloved husband. We shall be waiting for the arrival of our children, but mark my words, Michael McCole. If our daughter joins us before her time, _there will be hell to pay_."

I open my mouth to respond, but Ramonda cuts me off, as both she and our surroundings start to fade away into infinite darkness again.

"I leave you to your next trial, Mr. McCole. It shall begin… _now_."

And with that word, the darkness around me disappears as sound and colour rush back in against and I fall to my knees in golden sand. As I hurriedly glance around, I find myself in an arena of some kind, though all of the stands are completely empty and the utter silence is deafening.

" **ARE YOU PREPARED TO FACE THE TRIAL OF THE BODY, PLANEWALKER?** " Whirling around I see Bast lying down in a separate section of the stands, reminding me somewhat of where Roman Emperors are always portrayed as sitting in arenas.

As I look around in confusion, the gate on the other end of the arena suddenly gives a loud groan of tortured metal before it slowly begins to rise up, dust and sand falling down in thin streams.

Within the gaping maw of the arena I can see two orange flames light up in the darkness, before they slowly come closer to the sands of the arena, finally stepping into the light, making me gasp in shock as I fully see my opponent.

It's me.

Or rather, that darker side of me that had begun to crop up more and more since enhancing myself with Hulk-blood. Instead of appearing like my original body like my Astral Projection does, it looks like my new body still currently lying on a table in the middle of nowhere, but… _meaner_ looking somehow.

The skeleton is even more pronounced, and instead of merely glowing veins its entire skin is burning a reddish colour, while its eyes seem to actually be two pools of liquid fire. It snarls at me, showing pointed teeth and a slobbering tongue, but it's held back by enormous chains made of shadow which stretch back into the darkness behind it.

But it shouldn't be here! It shouldn't be separate from me, right?! Sure I had gotten more aggressive since taking in two serums which had shown to be detrimental to a person's emotional stability, but so far Bruce Banner had been the only one to actually develop a completely separate identity.

"What the hell is this?" I whisper in shock, but Bast has clearly heard me, as she gives a deep rumbling chuckle that shakes the stands with its sheer presence.

" **ENHANCING YOURSELF WITH SERUMS AS YOU HAVE DONE HAS FED THE DARKNESS INHERENT IN ALL CREATURES. EMPOWERING YOURSELF WITH MAGIC MERELY GAVE IT FORM AND SENTIENCE.** "

At that, the monster in front of me strains against his shackles, letting out a roar powerful to blast the sand around its feet away.

" **WELL. FORM AT THE VERY LEAST.** " Bast says with a dismissive turn of her head.

"But how?! Blonksy went mad from Hulk's blood, yes, but _he_ didn't get an alter-ego. And whatever else happened to Killian's brain after Extremis, he didn't have _that_ inside it!" I scream, pointing at the frothing manifestation of my rage.

" **TRUE ENOUGH. BUT THEN, NEITHER ONE OF THEM INGESTED A MYSTICALLY ATTUNED HERB AND THEN ENTERED THE ASTRAL PLANE WITH THE SOUL OF A PLANEWALKER. YOU ARE SOMETHING UNIQUE, AND IT SHALL BRING ABOUT YOUR DOWNFALL.** "

I gape like a fish out of water at the words of the Panther Goddess, my eyes glued to dark manifestation of my internal rage, before I manage to choke out a question.

"What are you even saying? Magic gave it life?"

In response, Bast shifts one her perch, turning her blazing eyes one me.

" **FOR A CERTAIN DEFINITION OF LIFE. MAGIC IS A COSMIC FORCE OF UNIMAGINABLE POWER AND UNKNOWABLE RULES. MANEFESTING EMOTIONS SUCH AS WILLPOWER, FEAR, HOPE AND EVEN RAGE ARE NOT THINGS THAT ARE OUTSIDE THE REALMS OF WHAT IT IS CAPABLE OF.** "

Straightening from her seated position, Bast places one enormous claw on the hewn stone in front of her, bending her billowing form forwards a bit in order to better trap me with her burning gaze.

" **ENOUGH TALK. THIS SHALL BE YOUR SECOND TRIAL: SURVIVE.** "

And with those words, the shadowy chains fall away from the manifestation, and it blasts across the sand of the arena, slamming into me with all the might of a freight-train. The hit throws me clear across the rest of the arena and embeds me in the towering wall that lines the sand.

As it sprints towards me for a second hit, all I can do is feebly lift up my arms in defence, but it proves useless as it ignores my guard completely and sends its burning fist straight into my face.

And all I know is pain.

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Marvel Comics founder Martin Goodman tried to talk Stan Lee and Steve Ditko out of introducing Spider-Man because he insisted that kids hate spiders.


	9. Good news everyone!

Quick notice: due to a large amount of negative feedback, I'll be discontinuing the story.

Edit: In honour of a surprisingly large amount of people that implored me to continue writing, I have decided to finish this story. The following chapter (and pretty much every single one of them after that) is dedicated to you. Stay awesome.


	10. Trial of the Body

**_Trial of the Body_**

* * *

I fall to my knees in the golden sand, blood staining my teeth as I gasp in pain. I have barely any time to react to the sensation of having my nose crushed, before I can feel a great burning hand grasp me by the neck and hurl me towards the other side of the arena.

I land in a cloud of dust, coughing desperately as I feel pain lance through my back. There's just one thought consuming me as I can hear the manifestation of my inner darkness approach with snarling sounds.

' _Why am I not dead yet?_ '

I have been smacked around for nearly a full minute now, and yet all I can think about is the fact that just that first hit should've been more than enough to turn every bone in my body into dust. Before I can think further, a foot slams down on my back and I can't hold back a scream as my entire mind is filled with pain.

The foot is only removed after what feels like an eternity to me (given that this is the Astral Plane, it very well might have been) and I can feel myself lifted off the sand by my throat, my rage personified holding me so we are face to face, mindless anger burning in those glowing eyes.

 _'Think! Think! Goddammit, if you don't think you'll **die**! Think asshole!_'

But I can't think, because a flaming fist buries itself in my stomach, though the hand around my throat is keeping me from flying away, leaving me in the perfect position for another three strikes in rapid succession.

By then, my opponent has apparently become bored of using me as his punching bag and lets go of my throat. However, before I can even hit the ground, a foot slams into my chest and once more I'm thrown across the length of the arena.

Once again I slam painfully in the sand, throwing up a cloud of dust, but as I'm lying there on my back staring at the inky blackness that is the sky above me, gasping for air, I finally notice something.

The weird properties of my Astral Projection.

It wasn't just that the angles were… _wrong_ in a way that would make Escher scratch his head in confusion, or that I just knew that there was a depth to my form stretching in dimensions only H.P. Lovecraft himself had understood.

It was also the way that sensations registered.

The faint stinging feeling of Ramonda's slap came to mind, the way it felt as if the impact of her slap had to travel unimaginable distances before the pain impulse actually reached my brain. The pain of getting punched by the rage manifestation was simply so all-consuming that I hadn't noticed it, but I suspected even its attacks were muted somehow.

Like I wasn't really completely here, or at least on the same dimensional level.

Of course, that realization did absolutely nothing in stopping the manifestation from descending upon my prone body, knees on either side of my shoulders, and to begin punching my face.

' _Think!_ '

A punch slams into my face, snapping it to the right.

' _Come on, you **need** to think!'_

Another punch, this time slamming my face to the left.

' _You're dying here! Come on think of something, **anything**!_'

But I can't think, because this time a punch descends with such violence it knocks loose a tooth, spraying blood across the sand.

I can't think.

I can't think.

I can't _think_.

I can't-

A punch nearly bursts my eye socket, but the lancing pain gives a sudden clarity to my thoughts.

This is the Trial of the _Body_.

Of course thinking isn't doing me any good. I'm up against a manifestation of all of my darkest emotions, and I'm trying to outthink it. Considering the blood that is splattered across the sand, that approach clearly isn't working out for me.

So instead, I just stop thinking entirely and just _react_.

As the monster on top of me rears both arms back in order to deliver a brutal hammer-blow down upon my head, I let out a roar of my own and punch it straight in the diaphragm.

The result is… _interesting_ to say the least.

My fist sinks far further into its flesh than it has any right to, but it also _feels_ weird, as if I'm just stretching my arm further and further out, no end in sight. The non-Euclidian angles of my body sharpen somehow, and despite that fact that the fist of my Astral Projection is just human size, there's an imprint the size of Cap's shield on its chest.

The rage monster gets thrown off of me, but even that is wrong somehow. Instead of being blasted away due to the impact of a high-powered object (like I had been forced to endure during our entire fight) instead it almost looks as if it's being carried away from me by some giant, invisible fist.

This time, it's the manifestation which crashes into the arena wall creating a cloud of dust, and as I slowly struggle to me feet, I can see Bast sit up a bit straighter at the sudden turn-around.

A mindless roar blasts away the swirling dust, and the being made of rage seems just even more pissed off now. Before I can even think of my next move, it once again blasts off towards me, springing across the blood-stained sand on all fours, so instead of thinking I once again react.

Right as the darker side of me reaches me, raising one arm the size of tree trunk with the intention of pulverizing my head, I strike as well, our fists impacting each other's face at the same time, that feeling of being… _larger_ underneath the skin of this Projection filling my senses.

As every time before now, I'm sent flying by the sheer force that monstrous part of me possesses, but this time I'm not the only one eating dirt. Even as I'm sent flying, I can see through my one non-swollen eye that the monster is blasted into the sand as if being bitch-slapped by the hand of God.

I crash into the unforgiving stone of the walls again, fire shooting up through my spine and I cry out in pain as I fall to my knees.

Through my one good eye I look up, supporting myself on trembling arms and I can see the monster work itself to its feet as well, while behind him, not having moved an inch, sits Bast, regally gazing down upon our duel like an Emperor watching a gladiator match.

Something about that image strikes a chord within me, and for the briefest of moments a scene flashes before my eyes: a city of skyscrapers, twisted onto its side, while an old man imperiously glares down upon two combatants wielding swords as large as they are, the one looking like a ghostly version of the other shouting something about being King with mad glee.

The scene is forcefully removed from my head as a flaming knee strikes it with enough strength to shatter stone, and I'm blasted back into the crater I had already made in the arena wall.

The monster makes to punch me again, but I shoot forwards as well, my open hand grasping his fist (but even that's wrong somehow, those angles that are off, those dimensions that are just too large making it feel like an enormous hand is clamping down upon its entire arm) gritting my bloodstained teeth against the feel of my skin burning, before I kick it in the chest.

The manifestation is carried much further away from me than my leg is actually long and it crashes into the opposite wall much like I just had.

I can tell that I'm on the right track in abandoning thinking my way out of the Trial of the Body, but I can also tell that there's still more to it.

Both my Astral Projection and my inner darkness climb to their feet, and we only lock gazes for a moment before it lets out a roar filled with mindless hate and charges once more at me.

This time I run out to meet it (though it's vastly faster than I am) and as we meet on my half of the arena its beefy arms descend down upon me with the intention of literally hammering me into the ground. This time I reach up to catch its attack, and even though I feel like the bones in my arms are snapping upon impact, I remain standing, sweat and blood pouring down my face in equal measure.

It roars in my face, its fiery breath nearly burning my eyebrows off and acting purely on instinct I roar back (though its far less impressive of course, on the account of not rattling my bones with the sheer amount of volume)

But this can't be it, right?

Just wailing on one another, until either one of us is beaten to a pulp? Sure, Bast might think my physical pain is amusing, but why use this manner to go about it? Why pit my original body from my original universe (which is probably part of why I don't really _fit_ in this dimension) against the impulses of my new body?

My frantic thoughts are interrupted by the being kicking me in the chest, sending me to the ground yet again, but when it descends on me with a stomp I lash out in instinct by kicking it in the side.

Though my foot only makes contact with a bit of skin above its hip, the monster's entire body is lifted up, the skin yielding underneath an invisible force as large as it is, the Lovecraftian angles of my body whirling and shifting in ways that make me dizzy as I look at them too closely.

The monster is thrown clear from me and bounces a couple of times across the sand before slamming into the gate he had first come from, crumpling the metal around its massive frame. As both me and my opponent struggle to our feet again (whatever damage I have managed to inflict upon it, if any at all, has already healed) I can't help but think back towards that scene that flashed in my mind moments ago.

I glance up at where Bast is reclining, and I can feel hate building inside of me as I glare at the unmoving Goddess. Time to ruin her little show.

Every sane thought I have in my mind is railing against my actions, screaming that the risk is too great, bombarding me with every what-if scenario they can think off, crying out that what I'm about to do is a bad idea in every way, shape and form.

Thing is, this is the Trial of the Body.

This is no place for thinking, but acting.

And so I act… by doing nothing.

The manifestation has already blasted off, one of its hands lighting up with a white hellish glow, fingers held straight in a piercing move, but I don't put up a guard (which would be futile anyways) or even try to dodge or just run like hell.

I keep standing right where I am, arms held loosely at my side, broken and beaten but unbowed.

And then its hand pierces straight through my chest.

The entirety of the abuse I have suffered during my fight doesn't even compare to a tenth of the sheer amount of agony I'm enduring right now. I can't even scream, as the pain has completely paralyzed every muscle and nerve in my body.

And for a moment, I think I've made a mistake.

That this will be the end, just because I thought I was being clever. That this is where I'll die, despite everything I've done trying to avoid that fate.

But then I realize something strange.

I'm not dead.

Focusing my one good eye on the monster that currently has his arm shoved inside my chest (it's up to its elbow inside my ribcage, but there's nothing emerging through my back, as if I'm far larger on the inside than the outside) I notice that it stands completely frozen and for the first time since I've laid eyes upon it, it doesn't have an expression of mindless hate on its twisted face.

Instead, it looks utterly confused.

"I get it." I whisper through a sore throat, despite the fact that by all rights I had just had my lungs utterly destroyed.

At my words, the manifestations eyes snap towards my bloodied face, confusion warring with rage, but before rage can win I keep talking.

"You're a part of me. Which means you're scared of the same things as me. You don't want to die, I get that, for fucks sakes _I get that_. I want to live as well. So work with me here. Because if it's up to _her_ -" at which I point my bashed in head in Bast's direction, who has gone utterly still after my suicidal move, "-then one of us _will_ die. Lend me your strength and I _swear_ I'm gonna do everything I can to keep us alive. _Anything_. I can help you! You just have to let me."

The monster in front of me keeps his eyes locked on mine, his free hand clenching and unclenching, his entire body trembling with rage that's barely held in check. Then its burning gaze shifts from me to the Panther Goddess, who has yet to move since she saw me apparently allowing my darker side to murder me.

"She wants us to die. Either one is fine, she doesn't care which. So why give her that satisfaction? You could play her game and kill me and a part of you will _die_. Or you can work with me. And together, we'll beat the ever-loving shit out of whoever was stupid or weak enough to challenge us. If we're apart we'll die, but if we're one, then we can become unstoppable."

The manifestation had unwaveringly been staring straight into Bast's burning violet eyes, but as I finish my plea, it slowly looks back towards me. Briefly it seems to contemplate something, but then I realize that I'm looking at the manifestation of the subconscious feelings that have been developed by my super serums and given sentience by the mystical properties of a Vibranium-enhanced herb.

A better description would be to say that the manifestation was merely taking the time to let its feelings guide it to a decision.

And apparently it had come to one, as the arm inside my chest is glowing a blindingly white and I can feel my torso start burning.

Fear and pain consume me in equal measure, but all I can do is widen my eye and let out a shocked gasp as I can't seem to manage to form words anymore.

But then I see that the manifestation is still looking at me without rage still consuming its expression, and once again I'm floored to find that, despite having suffered damage beyond what any human should be able to survive, I'm still not dead yet.

As the heat and light in my chest keep increasing I can see that the rest of my baser parts is beginning to light up as well, until it's more a burning silhouette of white light rather than a defined being.

Bast has placed both enormous paws on the balustrade in front of her, a growl coming from her that shakes the stands, but it's too late to stop whatever's happening to me.

Which is when the manifestation explodes.

The entire arena is consumed by a swirling whirlwind of fire, with me at the epicentre. I imagine this is what standing on the surface of the sun is like as the firestorm keeps roaring around me, licks of flame drawing closer and closer in an ever-tightening circle.

Soon I'm in a column of the hottest flame I've ever felt, and the fire start to cover my skin, flowing over it like a stream over a smoothed riverbed. I fall to my knees, curling up in a ball in a futile attempt to protect myself against the agony of being burned alive, even as the flames keep drawing ever inwards, being sucked inside my body through the flaming crevice in my chest.

However, eventually even this torture comes to an end, and the last swirls of flame sink underneath my skin, leaving me to gasp deeply for air for the first time in what feels like hours.

And as I do, I notice that I feel… _good_.

No, scratch that, I feel fucking _amazing_.

Gone are the aching pains that had begun to build up during my gladiatorial match, gone is the feeling of being on a different wavelength than the rest of the dimension. There's still that sense of being somehow more than my current form, but at least now it feels _real_ , tied down to reality in a way.

And it's my new form as well, though the angles are still off, and the dimensions are still too deep somehow.

But it's _me_. More than the unfamiliar body I had woken up in more than twenty years ago and had enhanced, more even than the dizzying original body that I had entered the Astral Plane with.

This was all me.

Opening my now healed eyes, I see that the entire floor of the arena is now twisted, glowing glass, with me standing in the epicentre of all that destruction. Slowly straightening (while revelling in the absence of all the damage I had suffered only minutes before) I turn towards the still standing Bast, who despite the near cataclysmic event of both of my halves merging, remains completely unruffled.

Silence hangs thick in the air between us as we just stare at each other, before Bast finally breaks it.

" **PLANEWALKER. YOU HAVE SURVIVED AND THUS PASSED THE TRIAL OF THE BODY. YOU HAVE PROVEN TO BE WORTHY OF THE POWER OF THE HERB.** "

She sounds as if she's tasting something foul, but despite my anger towards the goddess I have enough sense of self-preservation left to not call her out on it.

" **YOU ARE FREE TO RETURN TO THE MORTAL REALM. WITH THIS, I SHALL GIVE YOU YOUR ORDER.** "

With that, the Panther Goddess leaps from the stands, landing on the glowing glass of the arena without even a whisper, her shadowed paws ghosting across the burning surface as if it weren't even there, before she halts in front of me, her violet eyes burning into my own flaming ones.

" **SAVE EARTH.** "

And with that I hear a finger-snap in the background, and with that the world around me fades away into particles of dust, until only two glowing purple suns remain in the endless void around me.

Then those to fade out, and I shoot awake with a terrified gasp.

It takes a moment for me to recognize my surroundings, but as I start to regain control over my breathing I realize I'm lying on the table in the largest hut in a village in the middle of nowhere in the heart of Africa.

Hearing soft snoring from behind me, I vault over the table in a back-flip, while in mid-air I hook my toes underneath the edge of the table flipping it into the air as well. The moment I land perfectly on the balls of my feet, my hands shoot out and grasp the table, holding it out so it can be used as either a shield or a bat.

All in the span of second.

Slowly lowering the table, I glance in wonder down at my body. There aren't any visible changes other than somehow looking even fitter than before, but there's this whole new _feeling_ to my body. As if I can feel every single part of it down the finest detail, and yet have full control over all of them. It makes me feel as if my skin had always been somewhat too tight, but now it had been turned into a handmade suit, specially crafted for my body to absolute perfection.

Seeing that the snoring had come from Sterns who was lying on a cot in the corner, I stretch my arms above my head as I stare longingly at the open space at the other end of the large hut.

Not being able to contain myself, I jump forwards, landing on my hands. There's not a waver in my form, not a moment of unbalance. Then I slowly remove one of my hands, but it feels completely natural, as if I'm still completely in tune with every single action my body makes.

And then I stretch my fingers.

I weighed in at somewhere under 470 pounds (or 213 kilo's as the rest of the world would say) and yet I was merely standing on the tips of my fingers, without any noticeable effort or the slightest twitch or waver in my form.

I use my other hand in order to flip myself upright again, a massive grin firmly glued to my face.

Still, as awesome as being enhanced by the Heart-Shaped Herb feels, that had not been the main reason for ingesting the Black Panther power-up.

But before I can try to master the mysterious ways of the Arcane Arts, I had something else to do first.

Walking towards where Sterns is still blissfully snoring away, I gently shake him awake.

"No mom, five more minutes please…."

Right, I _firmly_ shake him awake.

"AGH! Stay back! Back! I know karaté!" Sterns yells in blind panic, whirling around and jumping out of bed with such vigour, his legs end up tangled in the thin sheet and he comes crashing down flat on the dirt floor.

Sitting down on the side of the bed, I simply look on with a grin as Sterns (with a _lot_ of rather inventive curses) frees himself from the clinging grasp of his sheet, before he finally sees me, my glowing eyes, veins and heartbeat making me easy to spot in the near-darkness.

"Michael? Oh thank God, you're finally awake." Sterns explodes with an exhausted sigh, walking over and sitting down next to me, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes.

The sheer relief in his tone catches me off guard.

"What makes you say that? You look panicked. How long was I out for?"

At my question, Sterns blindly graps for something on his bedside table, holding up a digital watch to his face with a squint.

"Well, as of right now? About sixteen hours, give or take half an hour."

Sixteen? It certainly hadn't felt like a mere sixteen hours, but then again, time did flow differently in the Astral Plane.

"What the hell happened Michael? None of the other serums took this long, and I've never seen you so… still before. After six hours I posted someone by your side in shifts just to keep an eye on whether or not you were even still breathing."

Briefly I wonder how I should answer the concerned scientist, before settling on a half-truth as he probably wouldn't believe me if I told him the whole truth.

"Honestly Sterns, I either went on a combination of the biggest acid-trip in history combined with an out-of-body experience that would put enlightened guru's to shame, or I just had a religious experience."

For a few moments, Sterns just stares at me with a flat expression on his face, before he rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"Only you would take the psychedelic reactions of an unknown, glowing plant as a religious experience McCole. Only you."

Standing up from the bed, Sterns makes his way to the other side of the room, where a basic kitchenette is placed and starts going through the mystical process of making himself a cup of coffee (as I've never liked coffee in either lifetime I don't know what half the steps are for, but the moment I think that my new brain starts feeding me information on possible uses of all the objects Sterns is handling).

"So, what's next?" the scientist asks over his shoulder and at his question I fold my hands underneath my chin and try to envision my map with the MCU timeline on it (which ends up being ridiculously easy to do with my new eidetic memory).

"We can't stay here. Not just _here_ I mean, in this village, but in Africa itself. Wakanda will try to expand soon and this entire continent might end up being a hotbed for spy-activity. And a white 8-foot tall behemoth and his even whiter, literal egghead of a friend will stick out like a pair of sore thumbs." I say with a wry smile on my face, prompting a chuckle from Sterns.

"To be fair, it'd be pretty hard to find a demographic in which we wouldn't stand out."

I laugh at his joke, but secretly my mind flashes to the Afterlife, the village built for Inhumans by Daisy Johnson's mother. We could fit right in there (disregarding the whole, you know, murdering all humans bit).

"So where to shall we run, oh fearless leader?"

I barely withhold a snort at the unintentional irony in Sterns question, before I re-examine my 12 Step Program. It's November now, which means that I still have roughly five months before Loki's attack on Earth.

I have achieved my primary goal of at least managing to survive the immediate area of an Avengers battle and I have my hands on one of the most versatile materials on the planet and likely in the universe (Uru notwithstanding, but actually managing to get my grubby little hands on any of _that_ would probably require lengths I'm unwilling to go to).

So what now?

As I keep looking at all of the names and events in my timeline a plan starts to form. Yes some of those events have yet to happen years down the line, but the people involved are very much alive today.

Alive… and useful.

"America. We're going to America, preferably New York or somewhere in its proximity. And then, we're gonna start making some friends."

As the kettle comes to a boil behind him, Sterns furrows his brow.

"Friends? What friends?"

Looking up at the scientist with a mischievous grin, I can't help but let out a chuckle.

"Tell me something Doc. Does the name Noah Burnstein ring any bells?"

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Marvel Comics and DC Comics have co-owned the trademark for the phrase "super hero" since 1981. They pursued this action because the toy company Mego, which made licensed toys of DC characters, had beat them to it. Mego gave up the trademark when the two companies threatened legal action.


	11. Interlude 1- Ready, steady, take AIM

_**Ready, steady, take A.I.M.**_

* * *

Maya Hansen was up to her elbows in her work, documents piled up high on her desk as she worked long into the night. She had been working for close to fourteen hours on end now, and while every other sane person would have packed up and gone home long ago, Hansen refused to give up, even as the sun went down under the horizon, her only lightsource her desklamp and the stars outside.

Or rather, she _couldn't_ give up.

Her backers had been rather insistent on seeing results after all, and they were the kind of backers that when they insisted upon something, then they would receive that something, no matter the cost.

At that very moment, her telephone started to ring.

' _Speak of the devil…'_ the scientist thought to herself, and given who she suspected was on the other end of the line she didn't even know wheter she was talking metaphorically or not.

Lifting the phone to her ear (making sure to steady her hand with her other arm in order to keep it from trembling too much) she took the call.

"Doctor Hansen. I do hope you have some good news for us this time. We would be most… _displeased_ if we were to discover that our funding into your little think tank had all gone up in thin air."

Hansen chose to ignore the fact that technically A.I.M. was backed by the U.S. Government, though there were clearly individuals within that were actually pulling the strings behinds A.I.M.'s research, sending them more money than she had ever seen and waving away every objection FDA might have (which probably would be every single one).

"We are in fact seeing some promising results. Massive regeneration of damaged tissue, and even restoration of tissue that is completely lost. The exothermic reactions are interesting in that-"

"Yes, Doctor Hansen, I _do_ read the reports you send us. But I'm not interested in what you've chosen to reveal in your reports. What you've chosen _not_ to send us, now that's really something worth investigating, wouldn't you agree?"

"I can assure you, I don't know what-"

"Are your subjects stable, Doctor Hansen?"

Clenching and unclenching her free hand in nervousness, Maya swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat.

"Doctor Hansen. Are your subjects stable?"

"Ah well, we do have subjects that remain within nominal levels and I believe-"

"Yes, nominal levels you say. Unfortunately for you, Doctor Hansen, _I_ do not consider regular injections, tests and constant regulation a stable subject."

"We are getting there, sir. Every subject that survives the initial injection is a continuing source of data on how the virus interacts with the bio-electric system and metabolic processes in the body. We just need more time."

"Yes. _More_. Something that I have noticed in our conversations with you, Doctor Hansen, is that this word just keeps propping up somehow. More money. More researchers. More time. Just more and more and more and more and _yet_ : we have actually to see any returns on our rather substantial investment, Doctor Hansen."

She didn't know what annoyed her more; his constant attempts at getting a rise out of her by repeating her name so often, drawing it out in an oily drawl, or the fact that it was working.

"Making super soldiers isn't easy, sir."

"No. No it certainly isn't. Which is why I was so surprised at the reports I received about that little showdown on the docks. I'm sure even you've heard something about that as well, even as holed up as you are in that facility of ours, Doctor Hansen."

"Yes sir, I have."

"Ah, good. You see, the thing that made me so surprised was that investigations of the firefighters, the police, both CIA _and_ FBI, as well as our own operatives all came to the same conclusion: this was an attack from somewhere else on the pier, rather than something that spontaneously happened from the site of the car wrecks."

Maya felt something pricking in her eye and realized with a start that she was completely covered in ice-cold sweat.

"Oh. What a surprising conclusion." She said, hoping that her voice remained neutral and that the tremor in her tone was only in her imagination.

"Yes. _Very_ surprising, especially when one takes into consideration that it was _you_ Doctor Hansen, who told us that it was just probably one of the Extremis-subjects… malfunctioning."

Maya opened and closed her mouth a few times, though no sound escaped her. A chuckle came from the phone, but it was a sound cloaked in a hidden promise of malevolence, rather than just a sound of mirth and the main scientist of A.I.M. felt her heart skip a couple of beats as it wormed its way into her head.

"Of course, we all make mistake sometimes, do we not, Doctor Hansen. But imagine my sheer _shock_ when I hear whispers from Africa. Whispers of a demon, crippling gangs and taking Ulysses Klaue hostage of all things, only to sell the entirety of the man's stock and tear off towards the jungle, a JSOC Ghost in tow."

Swallowing down her fear, Maya tried to answer the man's unspoken question.

"And exactly how is this… demon, relevant to A.I.M. or the Extremis Project?"

" _Because_ , Doctor Hansen, all the reports agree on one thing: the demon has eyes of fire." The voice said, and the faux warm tone of voice was gone, instead replaced by a cold rage, barely contained by the merest shreds of civility.

Maya felt the room spin at the man's words, and gripped the phone with such strength her knuckles turned white out of fear of suddenly dropping it (much like she felt had just happened to her heart, in fact).

"Someone, somewhere, is running around with Extremis in their bodies. And _they_. Don't. Blow. _UP_!"

"Sir, I don't-"

"You keep asking for time and money and recourses, Doctor Hansen, and we've been more than fair in acquiescing to your request, content with remaining in the background and allowing you a rather… _unique_ amount of independence. We did this on the ground that we held the utter conviction that you wouldn't be so foolish as to make us regret doing so. Clearly, we need to readjust that belief."

"I promise you that we are working as hard and fast as we can-"

"You're not fast enough! In fact, you are already behind, Doctor Hansen! There's already an Extremis subject out there, and it's not one of ours. This is unacceptable, Doctor Hansen. We entered into a deal with you in return for super soldiers, and so far the only one who has seemed to have profited from it is some shmuck in Africa, knocking over gangs and arms dealers!"

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Maya tried to keep her fear from coming through in her voice.

"We have made great strides in the creation of the Extremis virus, sir. It's the host that is the problem, and it's a problem that we are closer to solving every day. How someone else managed to get his hands on enough of the virus to enhance himself with I don't know, not to mention how he hasn't blown himself up yet. But as it is, I can work as fast as you wish me to, but all that'll amount to is more people going critical. We _need_ something that'll allow the host to fully integrate the effects of Extremis into its DNA without getting overcharged, and finding that something will either take a ridiculous amount of luck, or consistent, careful testing and experimentation."

Breathing heavily after her rant, Maya felt her nerves singing with mounting fear as the silence on the telephone kept on stretching longer and longer. It was difficult to say what was more terrifying: the continued silence or the man's possible answer.

"We are getting impatient, Doctor Hansen. See to it that it shall be remedied in the near future. However, we are not so foolish as to neglect the use even failed subjects might have. Explain to me what 'going critical' fully entails, Doctor Hansen."

Shuddering at the way the man dragged out her name (and hating the ease with which that riled her up, just knowing that he was fully aware of it even through the phone) Maya tried to answer his question.

"Extremis users are able to consciously control the amount of heat expelled from their body, but this effect has been shown to be unstable in the event of an Extremis overload in the body. If the virus is not accepted by the body or regulated inside it, the metabolic process that causes the user to generate heat, as well as the bio-electricity harnessed by Extremis, will overload, causing the user's body to rapidly build up energy and force, causing them to explode and produce a powerful shockwave. The resulting explosion is in the excess of 3,000°C and instantly vaporizes the Extremis user's body, along with anything within a certain proximity of the explosion, leaving behind shadow-like marks of objects that were vaporized, much like in nuclear explosions."

Again there's a silence after her explanation, though this one is thankfully a lot shorter and less nerve-wracking.

"I see. _Very_ interesting. And potentially not without its uses I suppose."

Personally Maya couldn't really see the use in having people explode in flaming conflagrations of death, and she quickly decided that she definitely didn't want to know what kind of uses the unknown man had in mind.

Ignorance is bliss, after all.

"Continue your testing, Doctor Hansen. However, the survivors of the injection are to place directly into the field. They shall be led by an associate of ours. They will of course bow to your medical expertise and recall the subjects if you deem that they are in need of a stabilizing agent, though in some cases we might… _advise_ against such an action."

Trying (and only somewhat succeeding) to suppress the knowledge that she was just told to occasionally let men and women explode whenever her mysterious backers found that more useful than keeping them alive, Maya swallowed down her building revulsion.

"Who's the associate? Sir."

"You can see for yourself."

And with that, the line went dead. Glancing at her phone in shock, Maya's face twisted in a scowl as she drew her arm back and threw the mobile at the nearest wall, shattering it into pieces.

Falling back down into her chair with a huff, the scientist rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling a migraine coming on.

"Fucking asshole." She muttered to herself, though softly enough to barely be heard (she was half convinced every single part of this facility had been bugged, given the man's apparent knowledge on the state of her research).

"While I do not approve of the language, I can certainly understand the sentiment."

Shooting from her desk in fear, Maya looked wildly around, only to squint her eyes as the light in the hall of her office was suddenly turned on. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the glaring light, she began to make out the silhouette of a man sitting in the corner of her office.

"Who the hell are you?! How long have you been there?!"

The man shifted, and Maya could see light flash across a heavy pair of aviator glasses, set above a bushy beard, concealed by a wide hood.

"I've been here long enough. And as to who I am… I am merely a teacher, though there are those who call me terrorist. To others… I am the Mandarin."

And with that the man rose, throwing off his hood, revealing an aged face, set with hard lines and a deep tan. As the man approached her, Maya's senses kept screaming at her that he was dangerous, a predator stuck in the same room as a rabbit. She tried to back away, but after a few steps her back had hit the wall, while the self-proclaimed Mandarin kept closing in, until they were less than an arms-width apart.

For a moment, silence fell between them, the terrorist studying her face with odd little twisting motions of his head.

"I understand how… difficult these last few months must have been for you. The leader of your organization: gone. Mysterious backers, crawling out from the shadows, demanding results that you cannot deliver. And all the while, someone out there, is running around, enhanced with the very pinnacle of your work, yet you don't know how to replicate it."

Maya remained silent, noting to herself that the man had odd inflections when he spoke, as well as an accent she had never heard before.

"But, there's no need to flounder, not anymore. I am here, because you can help me, Miss Hansen, and in return, I can help you. You see, I seek to… _educate_ America. And those, marvelous, creatures you have created… yes, they shall do very fine indeed as instruments of my lessons."

Getting the sense that the man before her was either mad or a terrorist with megalomaniac tendencies, Maya decided that staying silent was a better option than risking setting the man off.

"Those mysterious backers of yours… those people hidden in shadow, that try to control you, to _chain_ you. They tried to shackle me as well. But while I have gladly made use of their funding, they are mistaken to think I am still bound in their grasp. I possess contacts of my own, powerful friends, _ancient_ friends. And I can use them in order to protect you as well."

"Why?" Maya whispered

Letting out a sharp grin, the man clasped his hands behind his back and started pacing around her desk.

"Tony Stark. First his weapons decide which way victory swings in the conflicts surrounding the beautiful region of the Middle-East. And then, he no longer makes weapons, and I think that finally, there's an end to the hand of America in the war of my country. But, what descends from the sky, but none other than Tony Stark yet again, this time in a weapon that he hoards for himself and once more my people feel the sting of America, feel the toll it demands from them. No longer!" the man turned around with a roar, nearly scaring Maya to death.

"With an army of those… demons, you have created, this time it shall be _my_ people, extracting the toll from the riches of America. Nobody will see me coming, and nobody will be able to stop me. But of course, if your backers snap up the finished product, then this shall no longer be a possibility. For now, my lessons and their agenda align, but I do not intend to let the main prize slip through my fingers."

"So you want me to exchange one master for another?" Maya said with a bitter chuckle, though the sound died in her throat when the Mandarin turned to look at her through those dark aviator glasses.

"We all have masters we must answer to, Miss Hansen."

Wiping her sweating hands on her pants, Maya looked away from the man's intense stare.

"And who's your master?"

"My masters… are the type of people who would have your head if they knew you possessed even a sliver of information about them. And they _will_ find out."

Suppressing a shiver at the threat, Maya tried to switch to a different subject.

"What are you going to do? Are you going to remain here?"

Stroking his beard with one hand (showcasing the heavy rings he wore, one on each finger), the terrorist seemed to contemplate something, before chuckling.

"Yes, for now I shall remain upon the soil of my greatest enemy. Where better to strike at its heart, then from within?"

"You could get caught." Maya pointed out, though not out of any sense of concern for the madman, but rather out of hope that it would make him decide to finally leave.

It was useless however, as it simply made the Mandarin laugh.

"Ah, such a chance is slimmer than you think. There are very few people with the knowledge of my appearance. Besides that however, I must say that I have always rather enjoyed drama and acting."

And with that, the man just… _shifted_. It was still the same body, the same clothes, but the oppressive aura of danger that had been weighing down the air in the room had suddenly disappeared, making Maya feel as if she could breathe properly for the first time in hours.

It was just something in the man's stance, the way he carried himself that had completely transformed her in front of her eyes. Reaching up, the Mandarin took off his aviator glasses, showing her his dark eyes, though they were crinkled with innocent mirth.

As he spoke, she was completely caught by surprise by the man's heavy Cockney accent, as if the man had been born and raised in the streets of London for all his life.

"Don' worry 'bout any 'o that now, luv! I'll be fine I tell ya. Just call me… Trevor, why dontja? Trevor Slattery."

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** In the first Iron Man movie, while Stane is telling Stark that he has been locked out of Stark Industries, he is casually playing a piece known as "Larghetto", composed by Antonio Salieri. Salieri is remembered in history as the bitter rival and enemy of Wolfgang Mozart, and many believe that he even went as far as plotting Mozart's death. Who knows how the movie might have ended had Tony been more of a music buff.


	12. Thick Skin

_**Thick skin**_

* * *

Getting out of Africa was significantly easier than getting in. After taking our leave from the village Sterns and I had rendezvoused at (which involved a lot of crying on the part of the villagers and reluctant promises to return from Sterns) we started making our way towards the East Coast. While Cape Town was one of the bigger ports on the African continent it was also where we had first made landfall and if there were people hounding my steps (which I was convinced that there were) then going back there might put me back on their radar.

No, we were going to Mombasa in Kenya. It was the third largest port in Africa and known for two things: being corrupt and having extensive warehousing facilities. Also, it's the largest point of import for Uganda as well, which is lying directly next to it.

Which in turn lies next to Wakanda.

While travelling around Africa would increase our travel time to almost a month, it beat chancing discovery by whoever might be looking for me in South-Africa, and travelling to a port on the West Coast would mean travelling over the width of Africa by land, going through near a half-dozen countries (and subsequently a dozen border checks).

We made good time travelling through the heel of Uganda (mostly because Sterns was capable of learning even faster than me and by now was driving as if he was born in a truck) avoiding the bigger town and keeping to the side roads.

Sterns had managed to arrange for the village to give us enough supplies so we didn't have to stop during our trip for food and as I needed less sleep than the average human (I only required about three hours a day, though I was completely dead to the world during those hours) I just kept on driving through the night as Sterns slept.

We only had to stop a couple of times for gas (being as rural as it was, the village didn't exactly bother with hoarding jerry cans of fuel) during which the eggheaded scientist would stay in the cabin under a cloak, while I wore a long-sleeved shirt and sunglasses in order to hide my secondary function as a walking glow-stick.

The only real obstacle we ran into was the border-patrol when we were about to enter Kenya. As we came upon the road-block, I briefly thought about simply ramming the truck straight through, but eventually decided against it. Every guard there was armed with a machine gun, and while that wouldn't really pose a threat to me, there was a _lot_ of sensitive equipment in the trailer which functioned much better without bullet holes in them.

Oh, right, and there was the fact that Sterns wasn't bulletproof of course.

So instead I slowed down to a halt when a particularly surly man was holding up a white-gloved hand in the universal stop sign. Walking up to my side of the cabin, he rapped on the metal with his billy club, talking to me in Ugandan.

I didn't quite catch what he was saying, but I got the gist of it, so reluctantly I got out of the truck, landing with my booted feet in the mud right in front of the guard. As I straightened, I saw the man suddenly grow a lot wearier when he noticed that he was on the same eye-level as my diaphragm.

Tilting his head back to scowl at my face, he extended one hand, palm flat as he barked another order. Seeing that I hadn't really understood, the man scowled even more severely, before switching to heavily accented English.

"Papers! Now!"

Giving a placating nod, I ( _slowly_ , as the man seemed skittish enough) slipped my hand in the back pocket of my cargo pants, retrieving a small booklet. Placing it in his hands, I simply stood and watched as the border guard opened the little book.

Of course, there were no papers inside. Whatever few identification papers I had had after leaving the orphanage had either been just the bare-bones basics, or fake. Now, however I didn't have any at all due to the simple fact that I no longer looked anything like my old pictures.

For one, on those my eyes didn't glow as if I'm some B-List monster.

So the booklet I just gave the guard was filled with empty pages.

Empty pages…. and a stack of 5.000 US dollars.

Compared to what I had made when I sold Klaue's stock, even at ridiculously low prizes, 5.000 dollars was something that I could spend without worrying about emptying my funds. It wasn't a pittance, but for a bribe it was money well spent.

Especially when you consider that 5.000 dollars is equivalent to roughly 18,6 million Ugandan shilling.

As the man's eyes fell on the stack of paper that would instantly make him a millionaire, I saw him stiffen completely, a small tremor in his hands the only thing signifying that he wasn't a statue.

As the man slowly (almost tenderly) closed the fake passport, he looked up at me with a stony expression, and briefly I wondered if I made a mistake. Don't tell me I just _had_ to stumble on the rare incorruptible official in Uganda just as I was standing not even twenty feet away from its borders.

But then the booklet closed with a snap, and he held it out towards me, face still fixed in the same expression. Hesitantly, I grabbed my fake papers, and as I pulled it from his grasp I could see the tips of his fingers grip the stack of money, which smoothly slid out of the booklet and into in his hand as I took the passport in mine.

In a single move, born from what can only be decades of experience, his hand went across his chest, and the money disappeared underneath his buttoned shirt as he turned around, gripping his billy club.

To the other guards, it probably just looked as if he shifted his baton from one hand to the other.

Making a hand gesture to have the barrier raised, he looked over his shoulder at me (still with a scowl on his face even after I just made him a multi-millionaire, so I'm thinking this guy is either always angry, all the time, or an Inhuman with the specific mutation of not changing his expression) and gestured towards me to get back in the truck.

I wasted no time in following the order, glad I kept the engine running, and at his shouted command of "Go!" I was off through the checkpoint without a second glance.

And that's one country less between me and the completion of my next step: Step 11 recruit scientists that can be useful in enhancing me or advancing other Steps of the Program.

Step 11a: Recruit Noah Burstein and have him make me bulletproof.

Onwards, to Mombasa!

* * *

Mombasa is… _loud_. The amount of traffic is mind-boggling, and I don't mean just the streets. The port itself is an absolute madhouse of activity and there's not a berth that isn't filled to the brim with ships, cargo and people.

In a way, it's perfect for me and Sterns, as this chaos makes going around unseen a lot easier for two mutates.

On the other hand, that many people packed together means that the sounds, the sights, the _smells_ … well, let's just say that I don't see Bruce Banner having a good time here any time soon.

Still, hive of scum and villainy as it was, it still perfectly suited my needs, and slipping a couple of dollars to a dock-worker in what seemed like an official looking vest gave us directions to a warehouse that stood empty.

Most of the vast amount of warehouses in Mombasa were currently in use to store cargo which would either be exported further inland (mainly towards Uganda) or overseas (hopefully towards America).

Which meant that the ones standing empty were the ones nobody really wanted to use unless absolutely necessary.

Looking at the hole in the roof and the army of rats in the various nooks and crannies, I certainly understood the sentiment.

Still, while it wasn't much (understatement of the year there) a few bribes had ensured that it was mine to do with whatever I pleased, guaranteed no questions asked.

'Sides the neighbors were really nice people, even if they were drug dealers.

All I had to do now was keep an ear to the ground (figuratively of course, I think even Extremis would have trouble combating the myriad of diseases that flooded the dirty streets of the harbor) in order to spot a ship that would head towards America.

Unfortunately, the first ship that went even remotely in that direction wouldn't leave in over a week.

Fortunately, that ship would go immediately to New York.

 _Un_ fortunately, driving from New York City to the ferry in Georgia (which was the only _legal_ access point to Seagate Penitentiary) was a twelve hour trip.

Hopefully Burstein only commuted to the prison, instead of actually living on the island, but knowing my luck that wouldn't be the case. Which sucked, because while springing some of the inmates was a really interesting idea (Justin Hammer, for all his faults, had at one point commanded an army of robots. At least, for a short while) I think that freeing supervillains from prison might place too much heat on me.

You see what I did there? Because the Extremis… and _heat_ … oh never mind.

So no, if I could grab Burstein outside of the prison, then that would be great as it could be seen as the man just suddenly quitting his job. However, if I went in there (which with my altered form would certainly raise questions I'd rather not answer) and then took him, it would certainly be seen as a kidnapping, which would bring down the authorities on me.

But if how did I find out where he lived? And if I approached him at home, would he even be able to perform the experiment or did he require equipment within Seagate? And on and on the list of pros and cons went, since I realized that how I handled Burstein would shape how I would handle the other scientists as well.

Whatever approach I would end up using would tell me what to do and also what _not_ to do if I went after the other people on my list.

So, grab him at home, or at work?

This dilemma kept tumbling around in my brain even when we managed to 'book' passage on the cargo ship (it's amazing, having money! It makes bribing people so easy!) and I was still thinking about it after we'd loaded in the truck (Sterns had spent his time waiting on me to arrive from Wakanda fixing it and now he'd gotten attached to 'Oliver') and I hadn't stopped thinking about it even when we were already out at sea.

Finally Sterns got fed up with my moping (his words, not mine. I insisted I was _plotting_. He disagreed) and decided to lift my (his) spirits.

By hitting me over the head with a wrench.

"OW!"

Sure I was durable enough to not really get damaged other than a light scratch which healed itself in seconds, but damn, that didn't mean it didn't _hurt_!

"Goddammit Sterns, what the hell was that for!"

Completely unbothered by my fuming expression, the egghead turned back towards where he had Oliver's engine block set up with an uncaring shrug, fiddling around with it in order to give his 'little friend' more torque.

"Looking at the same sullen expression on your face for almost a week was getting boring. So I decided to have you make a new one."

"What kind of bullshit excuse is that!?"

Looking at me over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow, the scientist let out a cheeky grin.

"It worked, didn't it?"

My annoyance soared to new heights, and there was almost literally smoke pouring from my ears, but I took a deep breath which I let out in a great heaving sigh (almost setting the papers with the rough outline of my plan on fire) as I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"This is important Sterns. I have absolutely no idea how to go about recruiting people to my cause, or even how to keep a small group in line and following my lead."

Reaching up to his elbow into Oliver's engine, Sterns gave a thoughtful grunt.

"You seemed to do fine with me. And Klaue. And Killmonger."

"To be fair, you didn't need much convincing. And I forced Klaue to work for me under the threat of dismemberment, which last I checked, doesn't really build a healthy working relationship. And Killmonger, well he was angry enough that all I had to do was mix some lies with some truths, and then point him in the direction I needed him to go."

He also seemed to do fine without me.

While conflicts (skirmishes, shoot-outs, assassinations that kinda thing) kept occurring all over the world, courtesy of the hidden shadow war between different factions of War Dogs, Wakanda itself was making great strides.

The world had come down like a ton of bricks on the hidden utopia, and most organizations (UN, NATO, EU) were chomping at the bit to gain entry to the country, citing that since healthcare had been sent while it obviously hadn't been needed, some kind of refund had to be made.

A lot of questions were being asked about Wakanda's economy, especially how the hell they got so rich while pretending to be poor in the first place. How much money laundering and financial shenanigans did they have to commit to hide all that money? Any banking or financial transaction creates a trail, yet every organization checked their books and found barely any mention of the country. So they never traded with any country at any time? Vibranium is the source of all their wealth, but where and how were they getting all that money from if they didn't trade or sell their most valuable resource to anyone in the outside world (Saudi Arabia didn't become so rich from _not_ selling their oil after all)?

Other nations had thought of Wakanda as a poorer, simpler country than they were. Revealing they've actually been hugely wealthy for a very long time had made a lot of investigators around the world very interested in what else and how much they've been hiding.

Killmonger (though he went by his Wakandan name N'Jadaka now) had acquiesced to the global community's demands, and had started exporting small amounts of Vibranium.

Which people had to bring back to Wakanda in order to make futuristic technology out of, since only Wakanda had the know-how for manipulating the metal for complex structures and machines. For now, at least.

While Vibranium itself was a miracle metal (the auto-industry alone nearly fainted when they cottoned on to the full implication of using kinetic energy absorbing metal in their vehicles) its absurd properties meant that using it in the way Wakanda had shown to be capable of was incredibly difficult to figure out (which supported my idea of the metal being artificially made by advanced aliens who used its mystical properties to imprint information on the metal itself. According to the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. show the Kree had managed to do basically the same with their DNA what with the Words of Creation and all).

Killmonger's tactics showed his MIT-background: he knew that merely sitting on valuable export materials wasn't enough to make your country prosperous. Niger was (behind Wakanda of course) a country with some of the most expensive natural resources on the continent, sitting on one of Africa's largest deposits of uranium ore (being the 4th largest supplier of the stuff in the _world_ ), as well as huge supplies of gold, coal and oil.

It's also ranked by the UN as the second least-developed country in the world, with 45% of its population living below the poverty line and with only 20% being literate.

N'Jadaka wasn't promoting Vibranium: he was promoting human capital.

Still, what my former ally was up to in the heart of Africa wasn't really my concern as the distance between us kept being increased by the Atlantic Ocean. Let him carve out a piece of the world for himself, let the rest of the humanity make the most advanced metal in the universe theirs through whatever means necessary.

As long as I completed my 20 Step Program, I didn't care.

Another thwack across the head made me snap from my musings.

"What the hell Sterns!? That hurts, dammit!"

"You were brooding again."

* * *

We were sitting outside underneath the starry night sky, having taken a break after 9 hours of driving after our arrival back in the Unites States that day. Thankfully, as there weren't any border checks between states in America we could make use of the main roads and had made good time.

Right now, however we had decided to stop by the side of a little off-road path in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by tall pine trees and a small campfire merrily crackling away in-between us.

"So, what's the plan?" Sterns asks, slurping from his bean soup, with his back against his beloved Oliver.

"Get Burstein. Help him in his research. Have him make me bulletproof."

"Right, right, I get that part. But _after_?"

I pause in eating my chili con carne straight from the pot (one of the more conventional benefits of Extremis is never having to use oven-mitts anymore) spoon raised half-way to my mouth as I look at the scientist in confusion.

"After? After what?"

"After we get the scientists on your list? What then? Are you going to keep us on the run? Michael, if this works out, and they accept being enhanced, then we'll have some of the foremost geniuses on the planet in a single group. The way we could advance science, advance _medicine_! It's incredible!"

Slowly I stir my food as I contemplate my friend's words.

It wasn't like I hadn't thought about it (with my new brain and improved sleeping schedule there really wasn't a lot left which I didn't think about) but while I agreed with the sentiment, I was struggling with the execution.

Thing is, scientific discovery can take anywhere from 5 to 10 years before it's trickled down to the general populace. Pharmaceutical innovations could take even longer before they were approved to be marketed.

Sure, my Steps insured that I personally had a lot of power, so I didn't really need to fear anything less than a visit from top-tier Avengers (say, the Hulk or Thor), but this wasn't the case for those who were working under me.

Though I didn't believe Sterns for a second when he told me he hadn't given Oliver various sci-fi weaponry and gadgets.

But if I wanted an organization of my own, it would need to be a public one as I didn't know the first thing about setting up shadow organizations and unfortunately there weren't really any self-help books on the subjects. Not to mention that I didn't fancy trying to compete with organizations that had been at it for decades, centuries or even millennia in some cases. No, for my organization to remain safe from the shadowy clutches of Hydra or the Hand and the like, it needed to be put on the map instantly, not wait 5 to 10 years before the general public even knew it existed or what I could offer them.

I would need to do something drastic.

"We'd go public."

Sterns nearly chokes on his bean soup, and I patiently wait until he's capable of breathing again before I can continue.

"We would target different groups. First we appeal to the masses, make the technology of Stark and Wakanda available to everybody, for a price of course, and nothing that could be turned against us. They'll kill for what we can offer, and if someone would try to shut us down or anything like that, there would be rebellion. But we supply _those_ types of tech that would have everybody in the Army and whatever Agency perk up at the possibilities it presents. They'll circle us like sharks, and ironically, in doing so they'll protect us from being… disappeared by the likes of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Sterns is clearly skeptical.

"Let me get this straight. You want to get public opinion behind you by giving them goodies based of advanced technology, which incidentally could also be used for military purposes, making us too high-profile with the masses and too valuable for the military so S.H.I.E.L.D. can't take us down from the shadows?"

Ignoring his incredulous look in favor of continuing with my chili con carne, I simply nod.

"Think about it. We bring something for the masses, make our name known to just about everybody in an instant. This of course will draw the attention of spooks and the like, but then we'll release something _amazing_ , something ground-breaking. Nobody will be able to stop talking about us, we'll be asked for interviews all over the country. There'll be so many spotlights on us, shadow organizations wouldn't dare to come within ten feet of us. And in that void steps the Army and private contractors, like Pym Technologies, and all S.H.I.E.L.D. can do at that point is observe from a distance if they want to keep their anonymity."

Sterns gives an explosive sigh at my explanation, staring at his soup deep in thought.

"That's a lot of if's, Michael."

"It's just called hiding in plain sight Sam, animals do it all the time."

"Well yes, _but_ they don't generally have to deal with an international spy organization out to get them."

"With S.H.I.E.L.D. you never know. Who knows what sort of hobbies those people keep hidden?"

We share a brief chuckle at the joke, but silence quickly returns as we both resume staring at the flames of our campfire. Recruiting more people was both a benefit and a liability: it meant more people who could help in completing my Plan, but it also meant more people who could be captured and/or interrogated.

"So what were you thinking about marketing then? In order to get the masses behind us?"

"The Arc Reactor. We'll market the old version, not the one with Vibranium, so it breaks down after a while which will mean people have to buy new ones. It could literally be used for everything that currently uses energy; transportation, lighting, house-hold applications. It'll allow us to break into every market at once."

"Stark will sue the shit out of us. Hell, if it were up to him, our _grandkids_ would still be in debt."

"He'll certainly try, yes. Thing is, he ain't that popular with the Government since he has stopped sharing his toys with them. We'll supply to _everyone_ , everywhere. In every house, every school, every public building there'll be one of our Blue Boxes. A Blue Box which holds an Arc Reactor, making it different on the surface than one of Stark's inventions. It would be a paper-thin disguise at best, I don't think we could keep something like this hidden from him for more than a month. But I can guarantee you, there won't be a judge in the world that'll rule in favor of having all of that sweet tech that she uses to commute to work without a CO2-emission removed and handed over to Stark."

"You don't know that. They might decide to do their jobs and actually follow the law, you know? Just throwing it out there as a possibility."

I grinned at Sterns miffed tone.

"Sure. But they're still human. And if there's one thing that unites all humans is that we're all capable of being bribed."

Sterns lifts up his nose at the mention of bribing government officials, but he doesn't dismiss it out of hand. Seems his time with me on the run has bled some of that idealism from him.

"So, we rip Stark off and get noticed in every single branch of industry that could use the next source of energy after the invention of the internal combustion engine. What's next? Sure, people will talk about us, but I can't see them take up arms if we were to suddenly be… disappeared."

"Pharmaceuticals."

"Pharmaceuticals? Really? Michael, marketing a new drug can easily take decades, and if you're thinking about what I'm thinking you are thinking, then decades is an _optimistic_ estimate."

"I know that. But we don't need to hit the market. We just need to impress the people with the fact that we _could_ market this. Think about it Sterns. With what you've learned from the way Extremis boosts and repairs the body, you could basically heal any wound, right?"

The eggheaded scientist briefly mulls this over, before giving a hesitant nod, clearly wondering where I'm taking this.

"Now, imagine using that knowledge, and make it into a cure for an ALS-patient. Or using the same method you used to enhance my brain, and turn it into a cure for Alzheimer's. And that's just the tip, Sterns. With Extremis and the Supersoldier Serum, _everybody_ can be as perfect as Captain America himself. Hell, given the internal temperature of an Extremis subject, we could literally burn the HIV-virus from the human race!"

Sterns folds his arms in front of his chest, a severe frown on his face as he thinks my proposal over.

"I don't know Michael. Auto-immune diseases are so difficult to treat because it's the body attacking itself. If you were to enhance the body… that might turn out _very_ badly. And don't even get me started on messing around with brains-"

"-But _could_ you do it?"

"Well-"

"Sterns. Could. You. Do it?"

There falls a long silence between us, as the scientist keeps looking at the noses of his shoes as he sinks deep into thought. Eventually, he glances up at me from underneath his gargantuan forehead, and gives a hesitant nod.

"With enough time… and maybe a few more enhancements to my intellect… but yes. Yes, with all of the different ways to enhance a human I've seen so far, I could eventually cure humanity of nearly every disease."

With a grin splitting my face, I give a loud clap of my hands in triumph.

"Them's fighting words Doc! Alright! And that's _exactly_ what we'll tell every pharmaceutical company, every university and every research lab that we can reach."

"I assume this is where your smoke-screen of Army and contractors comes into play then?" Sterns asks in a droll voice, but I can see the amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Of course. Even the Army can rub enough neurons together to understand that if we can turn someone who's ill into someone who's in perfect health, then applying the same thing to someone who's already healthy…"

"… will make superhumans."

"More importantly, it'll make super _soldiers_. Ever since Captain America, all everybody has been able to think about is making more of him. And they'll bend over backwards in order to get their hands on a steady supply of them."

Shifting on the log he had been using as a chair, Sterns looks at me in apprehension.

"I don't know how I feel about making supersoldiers Michael. Blonksy kinda soured me on the whole concept of it."

I wave away his worries though.

"We won't actually _give_ them supersoldiers. Just enough to keep them on a leash. A pill to make their soldiers smarter, or a gel that seals any wound. There's a _lot_ we can do with your smarts and the tech I stole. The Army is merely useful in that it's larger than any other organization that could be out to get us, so if they're in the way then maneuvering around them will be a bureaucratic nightmare. No, we're interested in _trade_ , mostly with other advanced companies. Imagine what we could do if we entered a partnership with Pym Technologies. Imagine what we could do if we enhanced _Hank Pym_ himself!"

Slowly, Sterns gets more and more exited at the prospect of getting back onto the scientific stage again, especially if he can uplift his fellow scientists as well.

"You know what? That doesn't sound too bad actually. I'm sure we can find the cure to some of the more prominent degenerative diseases within a couple of years. Hell, with what I know now I think I can even come up with a serum that would negate Parkinson's entirely!"

I grin at his growing enthusiasm.

Back in my old universe I occasionally watched the animated show Family Guy, and while it was a silly comedy, sometimes it came with some rather startlingly deep insights. And a line that had stayed me, even after I got reborn into an entirely new universe, was one regarding health care.

"Because there's far more money to be made in treating a disease than curing it. Why cure someone of cancer in a day? When you can treat them for a lifetime and bill them every step along the way."

But Sterns wasn't like that; despite what he had been through from the moment I crashed through the wall into his lab, he still was an idealist, and he would not be satisfied with anything less than a complete cure, which the various serums and his own new brain would finally allow him to create.

It would be just one more thing that would catapult us to the top of pharmaceuticals.

'Oh no! Your poor baby has a genetic disease that'll bleed you and yours dry for the entirety of its life due to the expensive medicine our competitors are selling? Fear not! For _we_ can simply give him a shot now, and it'll be as healthy as can be for the rest of its life!'

I could hear the jingle already.

"So, the plan has passed muster then?" I ask with a laugh as I scrape the lasts bits of meat from the bottom of the pan.

By now Sterns has begun pacing in his excitement, and he turns towards me with a gin of his own.

"Honestly? I think S.H.I.E.L.D. will knock down our door the moment you take your shades off on TV. But I'm certainly interested in seeing what a group of hyper-intelligent scientists can come up with before we're all thrown in jail."

I laugh at his bleak prognosis, opening the cool box next to my lawn chair, throwing Sterns a beer and taking one for myself as well (we had bought it mostly on my insistence that a road-trip just wasn't complete without beer, even though neither one of us could really get drunk anymore. Extremis literally burned through it, but how Sterns managed it I don't know, though it might just be he can _really_ hold his liquor well).

"To the Plan!"

Opening his own beer, Sterns raised it to the night sky with a laugh as well.

"To the Plan!"

* * *

Miracle above miracles, it turned out that Burstein was a commuter, instead of living in the facilities of Seagate itself. Finding his address had been stupidly easy, as he had his contact information on his Facebook-page (which sported the deliciously awkward profile pic of him doing the hover-arm manoeuvre with Megan Fox of all people).

So instead of having to enter Seagate penitentiary without being seen, I just decided to wait for the scientist at home. Even if it turned out that he couldn't enhance me due to a lack of equipment, then I could still offer him enhancement or at the very least take his research.

I gained Hulk-enhanced muscles and made my own power armour in a storage shed, and injected myself with the Extremis-virus in the hold of a cargo ship, so I literally had dealt with worse than stealing blueprints to take back to the smartest person on the planet and a trailer with scientific equipment set up.

Still, things would be made a lot easier if Burstein decided to join us. Not only would it shave months off of the time we would've needed to recreate the experiment that made Luke Cage in an even bigger badass than Carl Lucas had been, having another super-intelligent scientist around would speed up my plan for going public immensely since we could then afford a much greater workload.

So in order to get him on my side, I decided to go with the shock-and-awe technique.

Which meant being decked out fully in my new and improved armour, hiding inside his house after landing in his garden, where I would wait in accordance with the classic horror-movie formula (wait until the person is bucking at something, then suddenly stand behind them when they straighten again).

Honestly, my armour has changed immensely ever since I had left it in Sterns' care when I went off to infiltrate Wakanda. Whenever he hadn't been busy with upgrading Oliver (and it worried me just a bit that I couldn't really spot anything out of the ordinary other than the utterly silent engine) he had gone over the armour, mainly trying to improve minor things like software.

Then I gave him a cache of Wakandan technology and Vibranium and he went wild.

While we needed more advanced facilities to make use of the Vibranium on the same level as the Panther Habit, the heat my Extremis-fuelled body produced proved enough to melt the metal (which though awesome also kinda sucked, since lining my body with metal was apparently a no-go since Extremis) so we could shape it into basic forms.

Which meant I now had a helmet and reinforced spine on my armour, made out of Vibranium, through which ran some of the most advanced electronics on the planet. My breastplate was also covered in a thin sheet of the meteor metal, though I didn't want to use too much of my limited supply on what wasn't the final form of my armour.

I'm no Tony Stark, I can't just sink millions into a suit, then put it on a nice display and start working on a new one. Every time I gained (= stole) new technology I would need to be able to incorporate it into the armour, slowly evolving it over time.

Like the two extra arms coming out of the back of the suit and arching over my shoulders.

With all the advanced technology I had stolen from Wakanda I had hoped to have Sterns make me Doc Ock's arms out of Vibranium. Not only did it have amazing combat applications, it would also allow me to bypass how unwieldy my large hands were for precision work. It could enable me to work in environments that were dangerous to even someone like me (like Chernobyl, or something).

Unfortunately, manipulating such highly sophisticated arms simultaneously required a level of multitasking my brain just wasn't capable of. Yet. How Octavius managed it in the Sam Raimi movies I'll never know, though the chip on his cerebellum probably had something to do with it, but since that was also the only thing between him and insanity, I wasn't eager to try my luck with them.

Sterns of course had gleefully made himself a suit with _six_ arms, which he could have perform complex tasks simultaneously.

While his smugness was nearly unbearable, it also allowed him to work six times faster, and during our trip from Mombasa, Kenya to Savannah, Georgia he had crafted two simpler arms for my own armour.

I honestly thought they looked something like a cross between the Yellowjacket Suit that Darren Cross would end up making in a couple of years and the back-pincers of a zergling.

Two separate Arc Reactors (still from the very small supply I scavenged from the Vanko drones, since creating a Reactor of my own would require some materials that would be difficult to obtain from the trailer of a truck) inside a Vibranium-shielded, flat 'back-pack' provided both energy and the anchoring point for the additional appendages, while Stark servos were combined with advanced Wakandan software in order to have them react smoothly to my will.

A powerful battery in the head of the arm, behind the pointed, bladed tips, drew energy from the Arc Reactors and were used to power the lasers that were hidden in a thin split down the blade of the pincers.

Which, of course, were made out of Vibranium as well.

On its own, my new and improved armour looked _lethal_.

In the dark of a sub-urban home, standing directly behind its occupant who had no clue I was even there, my eyes visibly lit up behind the lenses of my helmet?

Well, if Burstein's high-pitch scream in combination with throwing his carton of milk in the air (and subsequently all over me) and falling down onto his kitchen floor were any indication, I could look absolutely terrifying.

Well, less so now that Burstein had spilled milk all over me in his panic, but still.

"W-W-Who are you?!"

Trying (and somewhat failing) to contain my anger at this _oaf_ who threw milk all over my shiny, new, _expensive_ armour, I walk closer to the scientist as he scoots away from me, until his back hits the fridge. I bend down on one knee so were closer together, my massive armoured form looming over his shaking one, slowly extending my pincers, the Vibranium blades hovering on either side of him.

Which is when my face plate slams up, showing my smiling expression.

"Hello there Doctor Burstein! My name is Michael McCole and I'm putting together an extraordinary science team! How'd you like to be the second-smartest man on the planet?"

Which, of course, is when he faints.

* * *

"Really Samuel, this is _amazing_! I cannot thank you enough, the way I now look at my research it's…"

"Uhh, guys…"

"I know, Noah, I know. I felt the same about my own work when I first got enhanced as well. Things that I had agonized over in the past now looked so… simple, you know? Everything started making sense; it was just taking the obvious, logical next step in my research."

"Hey, guys…"

"Yes! Exactly! I look back on my research of _years_ and all I can keep thinking is: how could I have _possibly_ missed that an exothermic reaction was needed as catalyst for the procedure!"

"GUYS?"

At my shout Noah nearly jumps a hole in the ceiling of his shed, though Sterns remains completely unfazed, merely lifting his head enough so he can peer disapprovingly at me over the edge of the monitor he's squirreled away behind.

While Burstein was quick to acquiesce to having his intellect increased (especially since Sterns vouched for it, as it seemed they knew each other peripherally through shared fields of study) he remained scared of me after I pulled my horror-movie trick on him.

Serves him right, that should teach him to not throw milk over my beautiful new armour.

Still, once he had experienced the eye-opening new way intellectually enhanced people saw the world (to this day, despite the skull-splitting head ache I had at the time, that moment when I regained control over my senses after Sterns boosted my brain remained one of my favourite memories) he was quick to join us, excitement at the thought of advancements we would make in science swiftly removing any objections he might have had.

Still, while I encouraged him and Sterns bonding over techno-babble and hyper-intelligence as it made him more loyal to us, that didn't mean I enjoyed being suspended naked over a bathtub (well, technically two bathtubs, as I was too big to fit into one, so I sawed the ends on one side off and welded them together) filled with acidic liquid, strapped down to a metal gurney in the shed of a guy who I had known all of two weeks.

Yeah, my life had gotten really weird.

"Can we get on with it? Please? If past experience has taught me anything, then enhancing myself like this is gonna hurt like a bitch and a half, so let's not drag it out any further, yeah?"

Briefly, the two scientists shared a look, before Sterns fixes me with a stare again, and though I can't see his face behind the monitor I just know he's grinning.

"Sure, your call."

And with those words I'm dropped into a bathtub filled with acid.

As expected it hurts like a bitch, the entirety of my skin screaming out in pain as it's being eaten away, only to grow back, the heat Extremis is giving off as its going into overdrive in order to heal the massive amounts of damage I'm going through boiling the water around me.

And that's before Burstein flips the switch and electrocutes me.

I had been tied down to the steel gurney (which is beginning to oxidize, but I'm too consumed by pain to really notice) with heavy iron chains, but when the electricity slams through my every nerve they might as well have been made out of wet tissue paper as all of my muscles lock up and I start trashing.

Dimly, as if they're miles away from me, I can hear Sterns and Burstein's panicked shouts as I punch a hole straight through the bathtub, acid leaking around my clenched fist through the hole onto the concrete floor of Burstein's shed.

And as the level of liquid inside the tub slowly starts to decrease, and the scientists panic rises, one thought claws its way through the combined pain of being electrocuted and slowly dissolved simultaneously.

' _I'm not doing this shit again'_

In Seagate prison, Luke Cage was created after the racist prison guard Rackham turned the dial up to eleven, causing an explosion. In Burstein's shed, Luke Cage was healed after Claire Temple realized the same thing and proceeded to possibly cook her potential love interest alive.

Me, on the other hand?

I could go hotter than that.

 _Way_ hotter than that.

Focusing on the pain that was eating away at my skin and thundering through my nerves, I crack one of my molars as I grit my teeth, pulling deep at the heat inside me, deeper than I had ever before.

Light starts to consume my vision as my chest starts to experience a horrible aching feeling, and for one delirious moment I think I'm back in the cargo hold of a ship on its way to South-Africa, burning away from the inside as Extremis sets me on fire.

I don't stop.

More and more heat is pouring off me, until I feel that I could explode at any moment.

And considering the cocktail swirling inside my body, that isn't a metaphor.

I don't stop.

By now I don't have any coherent thoughts in my brain anymore, my world is just pain and heat as I will myself to burn hotter and hotter. I can't even be afraid that what I'm doing might kill me as agony overrides any thought I could have.

And then, in a bright flash of heat and flame, it all just stops, the bathtub exploding in a shower of ceramic.

Lying on the cracked concrete floor of the shed, I'm flat out on my back, barely drawing in pitiful gasps of air. I nearly freak out when I realize that I'm not immediately starting to get better, as there's no heat signifying that I'm healing, but then I realize that my entire body feels hot.

Rolling over onto my stomach, I slowly push myself up on trembling arms, which is when I notice that I'm completely dry.

The acid had been evaporated.

Sluggishly I try to straighten, though I almost fall immediately to my knees. I straighten again, and this time I manage to remain upright and slowly, oh so slowly, I can feel Extremis kicking in, almost as if it is as tired beyond measure like I am.

Looking at my arm, I can see the air simmer around me, thin trails of steam rolling off my skin, showing the after effects of focusing Extremis throughout my entire body. More importantly than that, however, is the fact that the texture of my skin has changed.

It's very subtle, and you'd need to get closer than most people will ever get to me and live to tell about it, but my skin didn't look like human skin anymore.

It had a rough, raised texture to it, layering itself in nearly invisible lines.

Like seashells.

Hearing a door open behind me, I turn to see Sterns and Burstein peek through the doorframe, the former analysing the damage that last flash of heat had done to the shed and equipment, while the latter gawked at my mutated form (like he did every time he saw my raised skeleton).

"D-Did it work?" Burstein asks haltingly as both scientists step into the shed, my newest asset only now noticing the damage to his property if his outraged sputters are anything to go by.

Sterns on the other hand merely looks at my smoking form with narrowed eyes, giving out a humming sound as he seems to consider something.

Then he whips out a silenced pistol and shoots me in the chest.

While Burstein drops to the ground with his hands over his head, I'm still too numb from my latest ordeal to react fast enough to the bullet, and stare somewhat numbly as the piece of supersonic lead flattens itself against my pec, and then falls to the floor, smoking a bit at the tip.

Slowly I look back at Sterns, who is still holding the silenced gun (and I do mean _silenced_ : using the properties of Vibranium and the technology from Wakanda Sterns had made a silencer that reduced the explosive sound of a gunshot to the level of the fart of a mouse), massive grin on his face.

As my brain works through the last ten seconds, realization steadily begins to dawn in my tired mind.

"You shot me."

There's no anger or accusation in my voice, as I'm far too spent for displaying any such emotions. At my flat statement, Sterns pockets the pistol in his lab coat, grin widening even further, even as Burstein hesitantly works himself back to his feet again.

"Yes. But did you _die_?"

Looking from the friend who moments ago had shot me in the chest, to said chest, and then to the bullet in question a grin slowly starts to form on my face as well.

"Didn't feel a thing."

And I start laughing, slowly at first but I keep laughing louder and louder until I'm gripping my sides, eventually Sterns joining in and even Burstein giving a nervous chuckle or two.

Because only in this universe can you get thrown into acid, get electrocuted and then turn yourself into an explosion of heat, and come out _bulletproof_.

Watching a bullet literally flatten itself on your skin?

I dare you, I double _dare_ you to find a feeling more awesome than that.

Coming down from my hysterics, leaning over with my hands on my knees, the raised ribcage over my chest heaving with my harried breaths, I look back at my little team, longer than normal incisors gleaming in the light of the fluorescent tubes in the ceiling.

"Step 11a: Complete."

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Bill Sarnoff, the head of DC Comics' parent company Warner Communications, approached Marvel Comics editor-in-chief Jim Shooter in 1984 about licensing the publishing rights to the entire DC Universe. Sarnoff figured that Marvel, who dominated the market at the time, were better suited to making successful comics featuring Batman, Superman, and the Justice League. Marvel's publisher at the time, Jim Galton, declined Sarnoff's offer, thinking that those comics weren't selling well because the characters weren't very good.


	13. A Bold Escape!

**_A bold escape!_**

* * *

Let me just restate this for the record, so we're all on the same page here.

Unbreakable skin is fucking _awesome_!

I decided to recreate the trick that Luke used to show Jessica he was superhuman as well, and seeing the blade of a saw literally blunt itself as it just sends sparks flying from your skin is _the_ most badass feeling in the world.

I had to fight to urge to step outside, cackle to the sky and shout: "I AM INVICIBLE!"

Fortunately, the Overlord List had taught me better than that.

Still, I was quickly brought down from my short-lived power trip by the two scientists ushering me from the shed and into the pouring rain, both apparently scolding me for just standing there in the toxic fumes that remained after I vaporised the acid bath (probably the reason for my manic bout of laughing and why it took Extremis so damn long to kick in).

After testing whether I was stronger than I was durable by repeatedly stabbing myself with the sharpest knife I could find in Burstein's kitchen (turns out that not even I can pierce my own skin, though I definitely felt the impacts) I took a well-deserved shower, washing the grime off my newly changed skin.

It even felt weird now, with a really rough texture almost like I had been rolling in gravel while covered in glue or something.

If the trade-off for becoming unbreakable was a little rougher skin, then I would gladly pay the price.

It was when I stepped out of the shower, still towelling myself off when shit began to go wrong.

The doorbell rang.

Thankfully the bathroom had a view of the street in front of Burstein´s house, so wrapping the towel around my waist (though due to my size it ended up more like a loin-cloth) I went over to the window and looked outside.

And nearly had a heart-attack when I saw a column of black SUV's parked on the road in front of the house (could I even get heart-attacks anymore? Food for thought).

My hearing picked up panicked shuffling from downstairs as Sterns and Burstein were figuring out what they should do.

Obviously, neither me nor Sterns could really answer the door, so it would have to be Burstein, who (judging by his frantic whispers) _really_ didn't want to try and turn away what was likely to be a government spook at the door.

Making a snap-decision, I hurried downstairs, keeping the towel roughly in place with one desperate hand, bursting into the kitchen where both scientists were running around, stuffing notes and equipment in chests and bags.

Both looked up in shock at my sudden entrance, their eyes widening and mouths falling open at my current (lack of) clothing, but we didn't have time for any of that now.

"Noah, open the door, stall for as long as you can. If you can't make them leave, then the _moment_ they get inside, run towards the garage and get in the car. Sam will be waiting for you there. Sam, throw all of our notes into the car, leave everything that's too big for you to carry. Most of it would be useless without the research anyway. Put the car in drive, but wait with leaving until Burstein and me are inside as well. Then we'll get to the truck and try to shake them off."

"What will you be doing?" Burstein asked hesitantly, even as Sterns just upped his pace, snatching his fellow scientist's keys off the kitchen counter.

The ringing of the doorbell cut off what I was about to say, so I just grabbed Burstein by the shoulder with my fee hand and pushed him towards the door.

"Come on, go!"

And with that Burstein rushes to open the door, while Sterns leaves through the back to his colleague's garage, where an old, banged up Toyota Corolla stood waiting.

While my accomplices were off to tend to their respective tasks, I ran upstairs again, wondering who could be at the door.

S.H.I.E.L.D.? Had they finally caught up to me after chasing me around the world? Or were it the local authorities, called in by neighbours because of the loud bang of the bathtub shattering? Then why the black vans? Did I set off some watch list I wasn't aware of when I entered the States again, and had the NSA or CIA cottoned on to my existence?

However, my worst fear was confirmed when I heard Burstein open the door, and the stranger introduce himself.

"Good morning. I am Agent Coulson, with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistic Division. May I come in?"

I heard Burstein give a nervous chuckle as he answered, and I could easily imagine the sweat that was probably pouring down the nervous scientist's face in rivers as he was confronted with what I had made out to be the bogeyman.

"T-That's quite a mouthful."

"We're still working on the name. May I come in?"

Looking around in a hurry, I spotted the twin-size bed that Burstein usually slept in, and more specifically the thick covers spread over it, and in a weirdly lucid moment, I was suddenly reminded of a fairy tale.

Honestly, I didn't have a lot of options or time, so I just had to improvise and hope for the best.

"Oh, ah, well, why do you need to come in?"

"There have been some complaints about the noise sir. Construction, explosions, that sort of thing. People tend to have trouble sleeping with such noises you see."

"Ah yes, yes of course."

Pulling back the sheets, I jumped into bed, pulling the covers back all the way to my chin.

"So, may I come in?"

"Aha, well, you see uh… No? I mean, uh, I'd rather not?"

I snatched the biggest book lying on Burstein's bedside table, opening it close to my face as I heard Coulson give a soft chuckle from downstairs.

"It wasn't really a question, Doctor Burstein."

"But you asked if you could come in…"

"Well, there's no reason to be rude about it."

And with that, I could hear Coulson enter the house… as well as the sound of combat boots thundering through the hall behind him, most likely having shoved their way right past Burstein.

 _'Come on Burstein, get to the car! This needs to be timed perfectly if we are to get it right!_ '

As I heard Coulson and his team hurry up the stairs, I was actively trying to control my breathing and heartbeat, hoping that I could keep the Extremis-fuelled heat to a minimum.

If this is to work, then I need to buy my colleagues as much time as possible, and Coulson is less likely to be willing to talk to me if I'm glowing like the sun because I'm a bundle of nerves.

There's also the danger of me setting the blankets on fire if my heart keeps hammering like it is.

And then I nearly throw the book out of my hands with a jolt of surprise when the door to the bedroom is suddenly busted down in a shower of woodsplinters, three S.H.I.E.L.D. (Hydra?) Agents bursting into the room and fanning out.

With Coulson leisurely walking in on their heels, looking for all the world as if breaking into people's bedrooms is just a regular thing for him.

Who knows, it just might be.

Despite the sudden jumpscare, I managed to firmly keep my grip on the book in my hands (maybe a little _too_ firm, as the pages are tearing with the strength I'm exerting on them), and I kept it raised in front of my face.

Time to put my acting skills to the test it seems.

"What the hell is this? Can't you people see that I'm sick? I'm trying to read here goddammit!"

That tremor in my voice, that had to be in my imagination, right?

Right. Positive thoughts, Michael, positive thoughts.

"My apologies for the sudden interruption. It's just that getting a hold of you had been remarkably… difficult. I didn't want to risk missing you before you left again. My boss is _very_ interested in having a… discussion with you."

Ah, _shit_.

"Oh. Well, maybe I don't want to talk with him."

"I'm afraid he insists."

Ah, _SHIT_.

"This is an outrage! Honest, hard-working American citizens, just trying to get over a cold, reading peacefully in their beds-"

"So you're American?"

Briefly the question takes me by surprise, almost lowering the book in my confusion, before I remember that I _really_ don't want these people to have a good look at my face and I almost press the pages to my face.

Did they really not know? Or was this just a tactic for getting me to talk and let something slip?

Gah, spies and their stupid little psychological games!

"Of course I am an American! And proud of it! I will not just stand here-"

"You're lying in bed."

"… I will not just _lie_ here and be insulted like that! I have my rights!"

I could hear Coulson chuckle and approach the foot-end of the bed, his guard fanning out more evenly through the room, allowing for enough space for another two guards to enter the bedroom, taking up positions behind Coulson from the sounds of it.

"Beg your pardon. It's just, from what we've heard about you, you don't really look all that… _American_."

"Well what else could I possibly be!"

 _'Five guards in the room, with Coulson at the end of the bed, and two of them behind him. One on my left side, but two by the window, probably in case I was thinking about making my escape through there. Which I was, so that's a problem. Unknown number in the rest of the hall, but judging by the amount of cars, their total numbers can range from a dozen agents to roughly twice that.'_

Again Coulson chuckled, but the sound fell flat, and there was a hidden tension in his voice when he replied.

"Well, from the stories we've heard, you're a demon, terrorizing and punishing the wicked in Africa. My bosses think you're something that Wakanda let loose, but I personally don't think that's the case; the timetable is wrong for that, since they only revealed themselves to the world _after_ whatever you did to Klaue. No, I think you're something else, though that's mostly because I'm admittedly somewhat biased due to past experience."

I almost drop the book again when Coulson unintentionally lets loose some important information.

' _They haven't linked my actions in Africa with my theft of Stark and Hammer-tech here, or my ambush of Killian!'_

It was an easy mistake to make, as people usually didn't go through such drastic changes like I had in such short a time-span (there was Blonsky of course, but he lasted all of a single night before he was taken in, while I had been operational for about a year now).

Still, this worked out in my favour.

"Really? Then what do you think I am, if not a proud, honest American?" I ask in my most imperious voice, but Coulson's answer completely floors me.

"I think you're an alien. Maybe you crash-landed here, or you were sent here with some sort of purpose?"

I'm silent for a few moments, mulling over both the spy's question as well as what my answer should be, coming down from the instinctive jolt of fear that accompanied thinking about S.H.I.E.L.D. since dicovery by the organization had been plagueing my thoughts ever since I woke up in this universe. But during that time, I had been a squishy normie with more knowledge than he should have, _now_ they had literally nothing that could so much as scrath me even if they tried their hardest.

Still, Burstein and Sterns were a lot more allergic to bullets than I was.

My meta-knowledge allowed me to read between the lines of Coulson's question: S.H.I.E.L.D. was absolutely terrified of an alien invasion happening, either since Thor crashed to Earth, or simply becoming more worried than they already had been.

As Fury will say on the helicarrier in a couple of months, Earth is not only not alone in the universe, it is hopelessly outgunned.

That was why Coulson was being so careful with me, why his guards had yet to do more than point their weapons at me, why he asked whether or not I was _sent_ here.

He was fearing an alien invasion, and was wondering if I would be the vanguard.

"Aliens aren't real sir." I stubbornly said, hoping that it would placate the spy somewhat.

While the alien-angle might be useful as a smokescreen that would have S.H.I.E.L.D. chasing down wrong leads, it could also backfire if they decided to take of the gloves because they thought I was (the prelude to) a planetary threat.

Coulson chuckled again, but I could tell I hadn't convinced him yet.

"You'd be surprised. Actually got to meet a few a while ago."

"Well, I don't care what you think you saw, _sir_. I certainly ain't one." I say with an annoyed huff.

"Then why not show me your face?"

Shit!

"I, uh, I can't. I'm busy reading."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"You're not"

"How would you know?!"

"Besides the fact you have yet to turn a single page? You're holding it upside down."

SHIT!

"Lower the book. Sir."

It was clear from the spy's tone he was done being polite. He hadn't yet switched to an aggressive approach, but it was clear to all of us that unless I would start to cooperate, he'd be ready to turn to it within a moment's notice.

Seeing no way out of this without antagonizing the senior S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent, I slowly lowered the book, showing Coulson my face.

And nearly bit my tongue in order to keep myself from laughing when I saw what almost seemed like disappointment on his face when he looked at my bald, _human_ looking head.

What had he been expecting? That I was green with antennae?

Still, he rallied himself masterfully, simply crossing his arms in front of his chest as his face reset itself in its smiling mask.

"Please get out of the bed sir."

And with those words he gave a significant look at where my chest was completely covered from view by the blanket I had pulled up to my chin.

' _Shit! If he has heard about me through rumours out of Africa, he's probably also heard that my ribcage is raised!_ '

"Ah, I can't do that."

I can see the guards tightening their grips on their weapons, and while I've only been bulletproof for a day I already completely dismiss them as threats (and I notice that I was correct in thinking they still had forces in reserve standing ready in the hallway) as Coulson allows a hand to drop to his waistband.

Where his gun is holstered (which didn't really serve as an intimidating gesture, since I knew that his bullets would simply flatten themselves on my unbreakable skin).

"And why is that? Sir?" he asks, almost sounding smug this time if it weren't for his peaceful expression.

"Well, because… because I'm naked." I admit, and it's the first honest response I've given ever since S.H.I.E.L.D. busted into the room.

There were a few uncomfortable shuffles and looks around the room at my answer, but Coulson didn't do more than just blink.

 _'Damn, the guy has a good poker face_.'

"I wasn't aware that Doctor Burstein was romantically involved in such a manner-"

"NO! No, it isn't like that, I just sleep here. He stays in the guest room. This bed is… better for my back."

Again, all Coulson did was blink, smile still on his face, even as he rested his hand on the handle of his gun (which immediately snaps the other Agents to high-alert).

"I see. In that case, please lower the blanket to below your chest sir."

"Uh, isn't that, you know, impolite to ask?"

"It would be. _If_ I was asking, that is. Lower the blankets, sir."

Thoughts and plans were thundering through my brain at light-speed as I slowly grasped the edge of the sheets in my large hands, thinking about how I'm going to get myself out of this mess. Sure, physically I had nothing to fear from these people, but that didn't mean that S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't make life extremely difficult for me if I completely curb-stomped one of their senior agents.

Which is when my colleagues finally came through for me.

The radio on Coulson's waist crackles to life, an urgent sounding voice blaring from the little speaker.

+Sir! Sir, we got movement in the garage! I repeat, movement in the garage! Please advise!+

I'm so high on adrenaline (and various serums and mystical plants) at that point, it's almost as if the world is suddenly put on slow-motion. I can see Coulson's eyes slowly drift from me to the radio at his belt, see how the guards instinctively turn their heads a little towards the sudden sound.

For a split second, the attention of my adversaries had been broken, though their top-notch training would undoubtedly kick in almost immediately and then my window of opportunity would've been gone.

Unfortunately for them, a split second was all I needed.

The exact moment Coulson's eyes are off of me, I grip the blanket and in a twisting move throw the cloth towards him and the two Agents standing behind him, temporarily obscuring their vision of me.

In the same movement that I use to throw the sheet at the spies, I twist off the bed to the right, where two guards raise their assault rifles towards me, even as my bare feet slap against the floor.

I hear the bark of gunfire behind me (the sole guard that had been standing on the other side of the room) but other than a few taps against my back I don't even notice the bullets flattening themselves on my skin, my form not even stumbling as I burst towards the window.

The two guard that had been standing next to it had now finally trained their weapons on me, but the close quarters combined with the proximity of their colleagues made them hesitant to fire.

And before they could find their resolve, I had run straight through the wall of the house, hanging weightless in the air for one precious moment, before gravity stopped gaping at my majestically displayed airborne nudity and reasserted itself on my form, making me crash down to earth.

Or I would have, if it weren't for the black SUV that had been parked in Burstein's driveway underneath the former bathroom window, and instead I crashed onto the car instead, its roof buckling underneath my impact, its chassis pressing into the tarmac underneath.

As the occupants of the totalled vehicle (who were thankfully all standing outside with their weapons in hand, since I didn't want to imagine the shitstorm that would occur if I killed a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent) were openly gaping at my sudden landing, a banged up Toyota crashed through Burstein's garage door, Sterns grinning behind the steering wheel, a chalk-white Burstein gripping the dash with an iron grip.

S.H.I.E.L.D. flunkies dove out of the way as Sterns made a handbrake turn around the totalled van, positioning the rear door of the Corolla right next to me.

"Get in!" my friend shouted, before his eyes landed on me, and his eyes bugged nearly out of his head.

Briefly, there was no sound or move made on the impromptu battlefield, everyone gaping at my hunched over form in the crumpled remains of a black SUV.

The absurd moment was shattered by a dry voice coming from the hole in the wall I had just made.

"Huh. He was telling the truth."

"GO GO GO!" I roar at Sterns as I jump out of the wrecked remains of the vehicle that had briefly (and probably involuntarily) served as a landing platform, ripping the door of the Toyota nearly off its hinges as I dove inside, the egghead already burning rubber the moment I was mostly inside.

We tore through the streets of Savannah, Sterns driving like a madman, tossing me around on the backseat with every power slide he made around corners, leaving the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents scrambling behind us in the dust, while Burstein just kept clamping himself to the dash, whimpering slightly whenever his car touched the ground with less than all four wheels.

The thing was, the sheer amount of processing ability and speed that Sterns unique brain was capable of gave him the potential to be _the_ best racing driver on Earth, as he was able to look at the entirety of the road, feel the G-Forces acting on us and parse the information the car was feeding him in the blink of an eye.

It all amounted to the fact that Sterns was driving the Corolla to its absolute theoretical maximum, while the drivers behind us were slowed down significantly by their inability to immediately swerve around obstacles, or keep the gas flat down when approaching corners due to that instinctive apprehension all humans feel when speeding towards a turn (with the exception of racing drivers, who instead just feel the need to go even faster).

It took fifteen minutes (and ten years off of Burstein's life expectancy he would later claim) of speeding in random patterns towards our destination, but the combination of S.H.I.E.L.D. being caught off guard and Sterns manic driving style was enough that when we arrived at the dingy motel where we had parked Oliver, we had a window of about five minutes.

All three of us jumped out of the battered Toyota (Burstein a little wobbly) and started throwing everything Sterns had stuffed in the car into Oliver's trailer. We just threw the last bag filled with notes in when my hearing picked up the sounds of squealing tires.

"MOVE MOVE MOVE!"

We quickly climbed into the cabin and were tearing out of the small town right as the S.H.I.E.L.D. vans swerved around the corner on the far side of the road. Despite the fact that Sterns was pushing the gas pedal almost into the floor, pushing Oliver to above 100 miles per hour (or 160 kilometres an hour in units that make sense), S.H.I.E.L.D. was still slowly but surely gaining on us.

Truthfully, they didn't even need to overtake us: they just needed to remain on our tail until we eventually had to stop, or just wait until we led them to our base (not that we even had a base, but all the same I'd rather not have S.H.I.E.L.D. know where we were going).

"Come on Sterns, you've been messing around with Oliver for months now, _please_ tell me you got something that'll let us shake these guys?!" I yelled from my side of the cabin as I struggle into a set of sweatpants (showing Burstein far more than either one of use would ever be comfortable with).

Briefly Sterns worried his lip, clearly considering something, but he seemed reluctant to go through with whatever he was thinking off.

"Whatever it is, DO IT!"

My friend let out a morose sigh at my panicked shout, gazing wistfully at the dashboard.

"I really wanted to keep this one a surprise for a little while longer, but oh, well…"

And with that, his face transformed from somewhat disappointed to absolutely manically gleeful, a grin nearly splitting his face in half. He pressed some hidden mechanism on the dash, making a part of it slide away, revealing a big, ominous _red_ button.

I got a sinking feeling in my stomach which had nothing to do with the black SUV's that were still creeping towards us, especially when Sterns turned to look at me, a gleam in his eye that made the hair on my neck stand on end (if I had any, that is).

"Hold on to your socks!"

Then he quickly glanced at my bare feet, and gave a shrug.

"Where applicable of course."

And then with a laugh he pressed the big, red button and the world… _blurred_.

A whine loud enough that it felt as if it was rattling the teeth out of my skull rose to fill the cabin, while outside the world turned into long streaks of colours as we tore across the highway.

That's when I realized that the whine was familiar, but before I could really comprehend where I had heard it before, there ran a deep shudder through Oliver's frame, and then I was pressed even deeper into my seat as the sensation of speed only increased.

And Sterns just kept on laughing.

I was pretty sure that Burstein was either praying or unconscious at this point.

The blurring sensation kept on going for a full ten minutes, during which I couldn't make out any SUV's hounding us anymore (though that wasn't really saying something as I had trouble fully keeping up with the outside world in general).

I was getting really suspicious of just what exactly Sterns had done to his brain behind my back; given that he seemed to take in everything just fine, the speed at which his brain was capable of processing data was even higher than I had previously assumed and definitely higher than what he had been capable of when I picked him up when he had mutated.

Still, eventually I got the sense that Sterns had gone off-road at some point and was now blasting off to somewhere in the middle of nowhere. After another five minutes, we fell out of the state that I had dubbed 'hyperspeed' inside my mind, and we kept on tearing along little side-roads through the American country-side, easily clocking in at over 100 mph/160kmh.

Twenty minutes later, we were standing on an empty plain of grass, miles away from civilization. Me and Burstein quickly got out of the cabin (well, _I_ got out, Burstein just sort of… flopped to the ground), but Sterns instead swaggered out, giving a loving pat on Oliver's grill.

Looking over the truck, I was only somewhat surprised to see that the tires were smoking, and a few cracks had shown up in the windshield. Still, it was something on the trailer that caught my attention, and I suddenly realized why the whine I had heard sounded so familiar.

Not taking my eyes off the turbines that stuck out to the side of the trailer's chassis I called out.

"Sterns!"

"What?"

"Did you make our truck _jet-powered_?"

"… Maybe?"

"For fuck's sakes, Sam…"

"Noah helped!"

"Hey!"

This was going to be a _long_ day.

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Most superhero identities have been held by different people at different times. Considering Cap is one of the oldest superheroes in comicbook history, he has been replaced a surprisingly low amount of times. The most prominent of his successors are Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson (the Falcon), with the most infamous being a run during the '50s where William Burnside took the mantle, but became paranoid and turned to become the leader of a Neo-Nazi group. A weirder example still is the Punisher theming himself after Captain America after the events of Civil War.


	14. Koalafications

**_Looking for the right koalafications_**

* * *

Thankfully the drive from whatever forsaken plain of grass we had ended up in after going 'hyperspeed' to the outskirts of New York City went fairly smoothly. However, instead of the twelve hours me and Sterns had spent trying to get to Burstein, this time the trip took two days, because I was being paranoid and insisted we kept to the side roads and avoided all major points of civilization.

Either S.H.I.E.L.D. had backed off after seeing me shrug of bullets like they were nothing, running through a wall and totalling a vehicle without any visible effort only to jump into a _jet-propelled_ truck, or they were simply biding their time.

Still, the relative quiet had given me the time to calm down a bit and actually start using that super-smart brain of mine to its fullest potential.

Yes, S.H.I.E.L.D. now knew what I looked like (what _all_ of me looked like) which would make hiding in the shadows even harder than it had been so far, but it also gave me an opportunity if I was bold enough to take it.

I could step fully into the public eye.

Repeat the whole 'I am Iron Man' thing that Tony had done.

There would undoubtedly be back-lash from some parts of the community (apparently my appearance was enough for people to label me a demon back in Africa) but for the majority of the masses I would be something exiting and new.

For the companies that I was trying entangle in my intricate web, I was a living proof-of-concept.

Let S.H.I.E.L.D. tire itself out, trying to puzzle together a file over me, only to look on in a stupor as what they had so painstakingly tried to gather will be made obsolete when the whole world knows more about me than they do now after I've gone public in a few months.

If only I could see the look on Fury's face.

But if I wanted to pull that off, then I needed to be more than just a curiosity for the masses. I needed to be seen as _important_ , both to the world in general, and to them personally, because of what I could offer them through my company.

Which mean that I needed someone who was experienced with the business world.

Sure, I could probably read every book on finance in the world and figure out how to set up a successful company on my own, but that would take time, because while I could easily absorb knowledge about business, I had absolutely no _experience_ in it.

And Loki's invasion was getting closer and closer every day, so I really didn't have any time to waste trying to build up my business-savvy.

No, better to just outsource my problems to someone experienced in that field, leaving me with more time to improve myself and gather even more minions- uhm, I mean _allies_.

Yeah, allies.

Still, none of my plans could be set in motion before I was actually in New York, due to needing to find some people first and set up a proper workshop for my two scientists.

When we reached the outskirts of New York City, I had Sterns drive off-road into the underbrush of a small forest, where we covered Oliver in a tarp that I had Sterns and Burstein make while I had been driving these last two days.

A combination of camera's and LED's made sure that the truck became nearly invisible, and as it was hooked up to a small (but more importantly, a _silent_ ) generator it would stay hidden for months if need be.

Then I sent out Burstein with a back-pack filled with cash (our reserves, which consisted of all of our savings and what I made from Klaue, were starting to dip somewhat but not yet worryingly so) and told him to visit a second-hand car dealer and buy any car spacious enough that we could ferry our equipment from the truck to whatever workshop we'd end up establishing within New York itself.

While it would've saved us a lot of effort and time, driving Oliver into New York was out of the question, as S.H.I.E.L.D. would have eyes on us in minutes, and while I had decided that I'd stop running from them, I still wasn't ready to challenge them out in the open.

Burstein returned in under two hours in a Chrysler Voyager, which while not the most prestigious of cars, would at least get the job done, which was all that mattered really.

Our first destination was the storage unit me and Sterns had worked out from, what seemed so long ago now. We had stripped most of it down when we left, but for now it would do as our temporary staging area.

Once more I sent Burstein out as our errand boy due to him being the most human looking of us (I really needed to gather more minions, I couldn't just keep pulling scientists away from their work in order to fulfil chores) with the assignment of getting us a warehouse without too many questions asked.

As we could easily supply our own power, it only needed to have a water-supply, and if it could all happen off the books then all the better.

Leaving the nervous scientist to go broker a deal in some of the seedier parts of New York made me uncomfortable (a part of that was also annoyance due to the fact that I just _knew_ we'd get screwed over with the price as Burstein had absolutely no concept of haggling), but it had to be done, since Sterns couldn't go into public just yet, while I was too busy with my own assignment.

I was going to recruit our next team member.

Phineas Mason.

The Tinkerer.

The construction worker who had managed to rip apart Chitauri tech and repurpose it for his own needs, working out of an illegal workshop.

Yeah, that guy was _definitely_ on my list of scientists to employ and enhance.

Taking what I had learned from my attempt at recruiting Burstein, as well as the fact that I just knew this guy would drool at the sight of advanced tech I had at my disposal, I decided to wait until nightfall and then pay him a visit in my armour.

Though I would refrain from repeating my ill-fated horror-monster shtick, as a precaution against lactose-related shenanigans.

Finding Mason was a little more difficult than finding Burstein had been (for one, Phineas' last name was a lot more common than Noah's) but he also didn't have a Facebook page.

Interesting thing about Facebook, it never got big enough to really dominate the social media market like in my home universe, meaning that even if I had the capital to invest in stocks (which as an orphan, I most certainly hadn't) investing in companies like Facebook or the like (Apple was likewise just a name amongst many others, instead of a technology giant) would have been useless anyway.

The other problem with actually finding where Phineas lived was that even when I finally found his profile page (on a site which hadn't existed in my old universe, the closest thing I can compare it to is some sort of 'grown-up' version of MySpace) he hadn't been so accommodating as to list his home address.

Still, using my increased intellect (and just plain ol' common sense) had led me to find Bestman Salvage, the company where he and Adrian Toomes worked at (who _did_ have a profile page on Facebook, though his only friends were his wife and daughter and it hadn't been updated in 5 years).

Finding their personnel registry had been somewhat more difficult, but honestly after breaching the labs of Wakanda (for which I had to learn an entire new programming language from whatever I could puzzle together from Killmonger's dad's notebook) hacking the files of a salvage company was child's play.

As I was busy tracking down my next target, while Sterns was salvaging what he could from the equipment we'd left behind in the storage shed (some of it had become obsolete by now with what we had in Oliver's trailer, while some of it would need to be disassembled completely before it could be moved) Burstein returned to us, a massive grin on his face.

A short drive later, and I could understand why.

Apparently Burstein had the same idea about his bartering skills as I had, and instead decided to use that to his advantage. Walking into the office of a local real-estate agent that had warehouses for sale, he simply went up to the office of the man in charge, planted his back-pack on his desk and opened its zipper.

Within three hours, we were down two-thirds of the content of the bag I had given Burstein (which amounted to a little under 10.000 dollars), but we had gained a warehouse near the docks in return.

It wasn't the newest building (or even the cleanest, really) but there was one massive advantage to it, besides the great amount of space it offered.

It was completely off the grid.

It had water, electricity and even gas, but instead of being hooked up to the local networks, it leeched its power from a dozen surrounding ones, which effectively meant that we paid no bills, and as far as the government was concerned, this building didn't use any power at all.

The last time they had even bothered to check this part of the docks was nearly twenty years ago now, so it was unlikely we would be noticed before we were ready to burst onto the world-stage of international business.

But Burstein had immediately bought it after laying his eyes on it for another reason entirely.

Lining one wall of the ground floor were some monumental vats suspended on a solid looking brickwork frame, which seemed to be capable of tumbling, much like a concrete mixer you sometimes see at construction sites.

Pushed against an adjacent wall were basins in the floor, their edges ground smooth by decades of use.

What kind of use was completely lost of me, though I could see that Sterns was starting to cotton on.

Unable to contain his excitement, Burstein blurted out why he had chosen this particular facility based on the barrels and the basins.

"This used to be a tannery!"

At my nonplussed look, he elaborated.

"For making leather!"

"I know what a tannery is for, Noah. What I _don't_ know, on the other hand, is what on Earth _we_ need a tannery even for. We're going to be a technology and pharmaceutical company, what use is making leather gonna be?"

Rubbing his hands excitedly, Burstein had a triumphant smile on his face as he explained.

"Do you know how expensive Kevlar is?"

"240 dollars for a five yard roll, give or take, if you talking about the heavy-duty sort that is." Sterns immediately rattles off, causing me and Burstein to turn towards him in surprise.

Shuffling uncomfortably at mine and Burstein's weirded out looks, the egghead half-heartedly tries to defend himself.

"What? We _do_ get shot at more often than average, you know. Or is even recommended, for that matter. I thought it couldn't hurt to look the stuff up."

Shaking off the weirdness of his fellow scientist, Burstein continued.

"Right. But do you know how much a similar amount of leather costs?"

"Between 40 to 60 dollars, depending on what sort of cow it's made from."

Again, me and Burstein turned to look at Sterns, who was nearly blushing this time.

"Look, sometimes I just keep clicking through on Wikipedia when I get bored all right?"

Putting my friend's weird habits out of my mind, I looked at Burstein instead.

"Right, leather is cheaper than Kevlar. Not really a surprise, and honestly I'm still not really seeing how it is in any way relevant to us?"

"Because _you_ are more durable than Kevlar!"

Sterns was the one who cottoned on first.

"You want to use the procedure we used on Michael to make bulletproof leather?"

With an enormous grin on his face, Noah placed his fists on his sides in triumph, happily nodding at Sterns incredulous question, even as I pinched the bridge of my nose with a sigh.

"Noah?"

"Yes Michael?"

"We are in New York City."

"Yes?"

"Where the hell are you gonna get cows from?"

"… Ehrmm"

* * *

After assuring me that he would look into how to procure untreated bovine hides in amounts that our estimated production would be able to handle, I started moving what was left in the storage unit to our new warehouse (after thoroughly cleaning house), while Sterns was doing the same with the stuff left in Oliver's trailer.

Though I had to put my foot down when Sterns proposed to make the entire truck invisible and drive it here.

This is a movie-based universe, there is literally no way in hell that the narrative would either let that go off without a hitch (a flicker of the light, right as some spunky cop is looking in the truck's direction, setting up a cop-centric storyline) or without letting it fall into enemy hands (a bit falls off and is found by Hydra, who manage to reverse engineer it and then spring it on me without any warning beforehand).

We were going to do this on a basic level, and hope our shenanigans stayed under the radar of the Narrative (which I'm half-convinced _has_ to be an actual deity in this universe, right?) so we won't suddenly be saddled with S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents carrying cloaking technology.

They were worrying enough already without the ability to become invisible.

It took all of a week to completely clear the storage unit out, scrub it down, and then cancel the rent, after which I destroyed the false identity I had created when I first rented it. Sterns was done with ferrying our equipment from the truck to our new base in roughly the same amount of time, and so we all got to actually turning the empty warehouse into a proper laboratory/factory, while we refurbished some of the offices on the second floor as our living quarters.

At the moment it was just a couple of chairs and an old television I had managed to get off the internet for cheap, as most of us were so absorbed in our projects that we barely made us of the new quarters other than to occasionally sleep or finish off some left-over pizza.

Using my part of the laboratory (which was mostly focused around my suit and the tech from Hammer, as that was easiest to reverse engineer to a mass-producible level) I finished up my search of Mason, finally getting his home-address from the files I had hacked from Bestman Salvage.

Which led to me standing on the roof of the building across from the modest apartment where Phineas Mason lived on the following night, thankful that the heavy cloud cover made me blend seamlessly with the surrounding darkness.

Even though I was a Marvel fan in heart and soul, feeling like Batman made me want to cackle out loud.

Which would be counteractive to the whole stealth-thing I got going on, so I just hunkered down and waited for the Tinkerer's arrival.

And waited.

And _waited_.

And then I had to wait some more.

Until after a stake-out of nearly four hours, at two in the morning, a worn down Smart car pulled up to the curb, an exhausted Mason stepping out, and shutting the door behind him, turning to walk up the steps to his small home.

Which is when I jumped from my perch.

I didn't use any of the repulsors in my suit, due to the fact that they would've made too much noise and light. Instead, I used the raw strength of my body, which proved enough to propel me across the entire street, actually overshooting Mason himself (my original plan had been to land behind him, but it seemed I had underestimated my strength).

You know that feeling you get in your stomach when you're really high up an you look down?

That feeling rose up in me when I was at the apex of my jump, and I looked down and realized that the ground was getting rapidly closer while I was hanging unsupported in the air at twenty feet and with nothing to catch my fall.

It was like going bungee jumping without a rope.

And then I crashed to the pavement with a heavy thud, the tiles of the pavement cracking slightly underneath my booted feet. The noise was louder than I had wished it to be, but it was still a lot softer than using my repulsors would have been, so I would just have to roll with it.

Rising slowly from my classically heroic three-point landing (mostly because I had needed to catch myself due to the sheer range of my jump catching me by surprise), I dramatically turned around, ready to give my recruitment pitch-

"Nope! Nope, nope, nope!"

-only to see the back of one Phineas Mason as he high-tailed it out of here, putting on a surprising amount of speed for a man of his size.

I blinked a couple of times in surprise, before annoyance rose within me, and with it the familiar Extremis-fuelled heat. I quickly slammed a lid on it though, due to the fact that because some of my enhancement actually multiplying each other's effects, the temperatures I could reach if I wasn't careful were enough to completely destroy my suit.

Still, that didn't mean that I would just allow my prey to slip through my fingers like that.

Ahem, I mean _ally_ of course.

"OI! Get back here!"

And I blasted off as well. Now, while Mason certainly wasn't slow, I on the other hand was fast enough to make Usain Bolt (who interestingly enough was an Olympic champion in this universe as well) look like an elderly person with the worst case of arthritis in the history of mankind.

So within a couple of seconds (and a beautifully executed vaulting jump over a parked car which I was quite proud of honestly) I slid to a stop in front of the fleeing Mason, who turned on a dime and made to run away from me again, before I snagged him by the collar.

"Look, if you'd just _listen_ -"

"Don't punch me!" Mason begged, even as he whipped around, fishing something from his baggy jeans and spraying me in the face with… pepper spray?

For a moment we just remained motionless, me holding the fat man by the scruff of his neck, as he looked at me with wide eyes and a flushed face as the capsicum-filled liquid slowly dripped from my full-face helmet.

"Really?" I asked in a flat voice, though my annoyance was unmistakable.

"Sorry?" Mason hedged carefully, and I just gave an annoyed sigh as I wiped my faceplate off with my other hand.

"Why run like that anyway? I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Man, I was there during that whole mess at Harlem. I'd like to see you do any different than me, after you've gone through something like that and then one night something big and scary comes dropping from the sky right in front of you!" the tinker responds heatedly, though I can still see that he's somewhat scared of me.

I consider his words for a couple of moments, before I give a slow nod.

"Fair enough I suppose. Sorry for scaring you like that I guess."

And with that I release my grip on the back of his shirt, though I'm ready to chase him down when he tries to run again. However, it seems that my advanced armour has finally registered with the fat man, and I can see his eyes light up with interest as he fully takes in the suit of advanced technology strapped to my imposing form.

"Woah… I didn't realize Stark was selling his toys again…"

"He doesn't."

"Wait… you're saying you _made_ this?!"

At his incredulous tone, I merely grin and give a confirming nod.

"Yep. With my own hands and smarts, in a storage shed I rented a while ago. But now I want to make _more_. A _lot_ more. You heard about Wakanda, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, they are this country in Africa, right? They pretended to be all poor and stuff, but actually they're like, really rich and have really sweet tech?"

Once again I nod, before I lean in a little closer, my voice a secretive whisper.

"I got my hands on their designs, and the smarts to figure it all out. I can replicate, hell, I can _improve_ their stuff, but I need more people to do it. You in?"

He's clearly interested, I can tell. He's probably dying to play around with advanced technology that has been hidden from the world for millennia. Still, he isn't entirely swayed, whatever loyalty he has to Toomes most likely holding him back.

It seems like I'll need to sweeten the deal.

"I can make you smarter as well. Smarter than near anyone really. You'd be one the same level as Tony Stark himself and the like."

His interest is replaced by wariness and disbelief at my wild claim, but I'm not worried about losing him as I reach into a satchel on the side of my belt (Sterns kept on insisting that it was a fanny-pack. _It wasn't_. It was a highly respectably _satchel_ , end of discussion) and retrieve a small notebook, which I patiently hold out to him.

Eventually his inborn curiosity overcomes his worry and he takes the booklet from my hand in a quick, jerking motion. Opening it to the first page, I can see his eyebrows furrow in concentration as he reads the scribbles on the first couple of pages.

Looking at me in askance, he's clearly wondering something, before he blurts out his question.

"These look like… plans of some kind. But it's nothing like I've ever seen before…"

I'm honestly somewhat surprised. On those pages were outlines for the machinery of the new pincers on my back (which were folded neatly against my frame, as they would only serve to freak out Mason even more if I had them extended), as well as the slew of programming that went into each part of the arm in order to have them to respond smoothly to my every thought.

Given the fact that they were a mash-up of Stark and Wakanda-tech which was then put through a simple cipher of my own design, I had certainly not expected the tinker to get so much from the pages at merely a quick glance.

Giving a short nod, I started explaining.

"In there are plans for advanced technologies, as well as the next step in programming. Now, I'm sure that given a couple of years or decades that you'll probably decipher most if not all of it. But here's my proposition. You read through that and come up with a viable design of your own based on those plans within the week, and I'll not only see it put into production, I'll also introduce you to technology that would make this seem like the plans to a Lego-set, and more money than you can spend in your entire life."

Clearly the offer of money and advanced tech has rekindled his interest, but as his eyes fly over the schematics in the notebook, I can see apprehension rise on his chubby face.

"A week? That's… that's impossible. If I had more time then sure-"

"No exceptions. _One_ week, or the deal is off."

"Look, I'm telling you, I can make this work, but not in a _week_."

"As you are now, no you cannot. _But_ -"

And with that I reach into my satchel (shut up Sterns) again, and withdraw a capped syringe, which I present to Mason, who seems reluctant to take it.

"-but when you're as smart as Tony Stark, well then it would turn it from an impossibility into child's play."

He's clearly sceptical, eyeing the syringe warily.

"Really? That stuff in there is supposed to make me as smart as Stark?" he asks in a dubious voice.

"Well, it might also turn out to make you smarter."

And _that_ clearly increases his interest again, and for good reason. Stark might be the most prolific genius on earth, but he isn't the _smartest_ (for one, Steven Hawking also exists here, and he seems to be even more of a genius than his alternate counterpart, judging by his books I read after my mental upgrade, due to them being undecipherable to me before Sterns boosted my intellect).

Still, the people that could boast to be smarter than the scion of Howard Stark could be counted on one hand, and to be among them was almost a bench-mark in the scientific community.

To be offered such a prestigious position all in a single shot, honestly, I could only see very few scientists actually turning such a proposal down.

Clearly the heavy set construction worker wasn't one of them (then again, he wasn't a scientist in the first place, he was just scary smart) as he took the syringe with trembling hands.

"One week, Phineas Mason. Return to me in one week, and you shall have your part of the treasures of this world. The address is in the back of the notebook."

And before he can protest, I bend at the knees, powerful muscles bulging underneath my reinforced cargo pants and then I'm off, clearing the row of houses on the side of the road in a single bound, and I've disappeared into the darkness of the night.

Using parkour to get from Mason's neighbourhood to the area near the docks where my base of operations was stationed (and _man_ , parkour became awesome when you could make leaps of nearly thirty feet at a time, combined with the reflexes, balance and grace of a cat) it took me roughly twenty minutes to arrive, and as I entered through the door at the back (which merely _looked_ worn-down, but was actually equipped with advanced biometric security), I was greeted by an exited Sterns.

From where I was standing in the hallway, I could see Burstein snoring away on the couch of our 'living room'.

"Well? How did it go?"

Giving my friend a smug grin, I merely chuckled.

"I think I hooked him. Gave him a small amount of tech and software to figure out, as well as the syringe with Brain Booster. I even added an incentive to make him use it too; if he doesn't, then he won't be able to join our group, but if he does, then he gets even more tech to play with and all the money he could ever ask for."

"You really think it was a good idea, just giving him the Boost straight off the bat, without making sure he works for us first?"

"Give it a few days Sam, and he'll be knocking our door down, begging us to let him join the group."

Sterns remained somewhat sceptical, but I was proven right when three days later (two days earlier than I had expected) there indeed was a knock on our door, the security camera's showing the exited form of Phineas Mason.

When I opened the door for him, Burstein and Sterns behind me, Phineas didn't even say a word, merely stepping forwards, holding the notebook out for me to take with a huge grin on his sleep-deprived face. I quickly flipped through it, and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head as I took in the thick script that lined every square inch of every single page in the booklet.

Closing it after quickly reading through what appeared to be an exoskeleton based on the blueprints of the pincers and even what seemed to be reverse engineered parts from what he remembered seeing from my armour, and passing it to Sterns behind me, I let out a grin at the Tinkerer before me.

"Welcome aboard, Mr. Mason."

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Neal Tennant, the lead singer of the Pet Shop Boys, was an editor at Marvel's U.K. office in the late '70s.


	15. Unholy Trinity

**_Unholy Trinity_**

* * *

Immediately after accepting Phineas into my group I put him on creating a Blue Box, as it was crucial for my plans of actually putting my company on the map fast enough that S.H.I.E.L.D (or someone even more shady) couldn't try and shut me down.

Well, _almost_ immediately.

As it turned out, after agonizing over the notes I had left him for over a day, Phineas finally succumbed to the temptation of using the Brain Booster in order to solve the schematics.

And after that he hadn't stopped.

Which mean that when he knocked on my door, he had slept a total of four hours in the last three days. As I didn't want to find out what happened when you combine sleep deprivation with Arc Reactor-experimentation, I ordered him to rest in the living quarters, where he fell asleep the moment he crashed onto the couch.

While Mason slept off his insomnia, the rest of us got to working on our respective projects. Burstein had finally found a supplier for the bovine hides small enough that it wasn't likely to show up on anyone's radar (in this universe, you never knew who was watching, just that _someone_ probably was), and while he was waiting for them to arrive, he was helping Sterns with developing an Omni-cure.

It was a medicine that was based on the regenerative abilities the serums had granted me, and once perfected should be able to boost every single human to just beyond Captain America in terms of physical health and strength, without giving them gamma-mutations or Extremis-heat.

The greatest problem developing such a cure was that it had to work on _every_ human, and given that every human had unique DNA (not even twins were absolutely identical in their DNA as they grew older) finding a way to make the Cure work for everyone without accidentally killing those few who turned out to be incompatible proved to be extremely difficult.

Combining their super intellect, Burstein and Sterns estimated they would have a prototype within five years.

While it would take too long for it to be useful in the months leading up to Loki's invasion, I was mainly interested in the derivate Sterns was making based on the combined research he and Burstein had performed.

Using SCIENCE! Sterns had managed to isolate the part of Extremis that retroactively fixed the user's body like it had done with Killian, and used it to program Extremis in such a way that it used the bioelectric and metabolic processes of the body to "repair" the body to an ideal version of itself.

Basically, he had created our very own Fountain of Youth.

Actually bringing it to the mainstream market could take decades, but I wasn't really worried about that, since I had an entirely different demographic in mind. Every year, roughly 16 Billion dollars is spent on plastic surgery and various other ways to halt the signs of aging, with the rich and famous of course bringing up the biggest share in these monumental expenses.

Imagine what they would be willing to pay for the only thing capable of returning their youth back to them with 100% natural looking results, as opposed to the plastic mannequins that surgery ends up making, all with just a single shot.

Imagine what they would be willing to _do_ …

So, I had Mason working on a project which would put us on the map of the masses and Sterns on a project which would entice people with more money than sense to be willing to pay through their noses for our product, helped by Burstein, who's idea for indestructible leather would probably increase our favour with law enforcement and the like to great heights, as we were planning to sell the armour at a vastly cheaper rate than Kevlar, while still making 100 dollars apiece.

And while my team of scientists gleefully put their super intelligent brains to the test, I was working on a project of my own, one for which I dragged Phineas along, since his connection to my target could turn out to be the decidingfactor for a positive outcome of this particular meeting.

"Hello there, Mister Toomes! Michael McCole, may I come in please?"

Standing nonplussed in his hallway of his house after he had opened the door at my knocking, Adrian Toomes looked up at my massive form with surprise clearly written on his face.

This time I wasn't in my armour, but instead I was in civilian gear, consisting of a pair of jeans tucked in combat boots, and a windbreaker zipped up to my throat in order to hide my more visible mutations. Originally I had bought a suit for this meeting, which 'unfortunately' had to be handcrafted, as I couldn't find one that fit me well enough due to my large size (and also because I couldn't quite resist the need to splurge when Burstein returned the back-pack I had given him, which to my amazement still held roughly 5000 dollars). However, I quickly realized that showing up to this guy's door in a handmade suit would probably serve to only set him against me from the get go.

No, just sturdy workman's clothing would be the best approach, as it would increase my chances of building a positive rapport with the blue-collar worker. Standing in his grease-stained overalls, Mason was clasping his hands behind his back next to me with a grin on his face.

"Phineas. The hell is this?" Toomes muttered lowly, though his eyes didn't leave mine.

"This is the guy I called you about! He's the one that gave me a new job! That's why I, you know, haven't really been showing up lately." Mason trailed off, as Toomes turned his head to look at his former colleague with a flat stare.

"Really? Now I'm wondering what kind of job requires you to just up and leave without letting your co-workers know anything at all. Just 'poof!', vanish from the face of the earth like that."

And with those words, Toomes turns back towards me again, fixing me with a stare that would probably have been intimidating if it weren't for the fact that (as he was now) he posed literal zero threat to me.

So I just let out a generous sounding laugh as I try to releave some of the tension that had sprung up between us, placing one enormous hand on the man's shoulder (which prompted a raised eyebrow and an impressive scowl from him), as I leaned forwards a little.

"I'm sorry about the hurry with which Mason left your employment Mister Toomes. But, he has told me a lot about you in the short time he's worked for me, and I think that I have found a way to pay you back for your troubles." I say with an easy grin, trying to win the man with my charmes, but it looks like Adrian is intending to play things close to the chest, as he doesn't say a word at my reassurance.

Instead he looks past me in order to fix Phineas with a heavy look, raising an eyebrow in question.

"He for real?"

"Don't worry about it man, he checks out. I swear, you're gonna wanna hear what he has to say." Mason says in a serious voice, though he can't quite keep his excitement from showing through.

Mulling it over for a few moments, Toomes finally seemed to cave to his ex-colleague's assurances, taking a step back from me and motioning us inside with a short jerk of his neck.

"Come inside then. Let's hear what you got to say."

And with those words, I entered the Toomes residence.

It wasn't the fancy modern house that I saw so long ago in the Spiderman: Homecoming movie, since Adrian had bought that with the money he had managed to acquire as the Vulture. Instead it was just a modest two-story house in Queens, thoroughly lived in and well-loved if the family pictures that lined the walls were anything to go by.

Leading us to his living room, Adrian gestured half-heartedly to his couch for us to take a seat why he walked on to the kitchen.

"You guys want a beer?"

Both of us acquiesced (even though it wouldn't really do anything to me, it would still be rude to decline when a man offers a stranger a beer from his personal stash) and in a few moments Adrian had returned, handing me and Mason a bottle as he took a seat in a heavy armchair with a deep sigh.

Not really paying attention to the beer in my hand, I twisted the top off without any effort, though I was taken off guard when I saw Toomes' eyes widening at the casual act.

Looking at the cap in my hand, I understood why.

This brand didn't have screw caps on their bottles.

Glancing at the villain in the making, I let out a sheepish grin, giving a careless shrug.

"Always ate my vegetables as a kid." I give as an explanation for the small feat of strength, and thankfully Toomes didn't push, simply shaking his head and using a bottle opener to get to his own beer.

After taking a long gulp, he gave a satisfied sigh and licked his lips, before he looked at me with narrowed eyes.

"You said something about paying me back?"

Scooting forwards on the couch, I let out a massive grin as I start putting my plan in motion.

"Mister Toomes, how long have you worked in construction and salvage?"

"Near on twenty years I reckon. Why?" Adrian asked suspiciously, but I just continued my questioning, confident that all those self-helpbooks about social interaction I had read would guide me through the conversation to a desirable outcome.

"And during those two decades, how many men and women do you know that by now have become, for whatever reason, unable to continue working, or hold a steady job?"

The rather personal question sets him off, and he sits up straighter in order to tear me a new one when he's held back by the placating motions of Mason, proving that my hunch in bringing him along in order to smooth things over had been correct. Settling back down in his armchair, Toomes fixed me with an angry glare, before answering my question.

"About thirty, I guess, give or take. What's it to you?" he says curtly.

At his wary question, I spread out my arms in a gesture of absolute generosity (nearly smacking Phineas in the mouth on accident) as I beam at the other man.

"I want to hire them!"

Clearly disbelieving my claim, Toomes scratches his cheek as his eyes study my face, trying to discern my motives.

"How many, and what do you need 'em for?"

"All of them!" I reply with a happy grin, which only serves to make Adrian even more weary, though I notice the interest in his voice and eyes, and I know that I got him hooked.

Now all that's left is to reel him in.

"The hell you need thirty cripples for?"

"I'm starting my own company, Mister Toomes. It's going to mainly focus on technology and medicine. Now, what I'm suggesting is that those people you know that are unable to get employed, start working for me. They get a respectable pay-check, and in return I hope to learn from them how to heal and support people like them to the point that they can be reintroduced to the job market as fully capable workers."

It's a load of sentimental crap: what I'm doing is taking a page out of A.I.M.'s book in regards to the types of mooks they recruited. Most (if not all) of them had been disfigured or disabled veterans, who when healed proved to be not only a capable workforce, but also a very _loyal_ one.

I'm hoping to apply the same principle on whatever mooks Adrian can set me up with.

While it seems that Toomes has some suspicions about my story being a load of bull, the prospect of setting his friends up with a job was clearly making him consider accepting my proposal.

Finally, it was Mason who sealed the deal for me, _just_ as I had planned for him to do.

I love my super-smart brain.

"C'mon Adrian. I'm _telling_ you, this guy is for real. This isn't any of that feel-good crap, from what I've seen we have a _real_ chance of making people better again. And the pay is good. It's nothing amazing, but it's good. Everything's better than nothing at all, right?" Phineas says softly in an urgent tone, making Toomes sink deep in thought.

After nearly a minute of silence (during which the beer in my hand has become disgustingly warm, of course) Adrian looks at me with a considering glance, before placing his beer on the coffee table, leaning forwards in his chair, hands folded underneath his chin.

"Allright. Let's talk business."

* * *

It was three days later that I stood in the centre of Manhattan (finally in my fancy new suit, yay!) with a bulky case in one hand, facing the imposing façade of one of the most well-known law firms in the universe (or at least, for those back in my old one it was, here it was just one of many).

Striding through the revolving doors with confidence oozing from every square inch of me (which considering my size, amounted to a _lot_ ) I made my way to the enormous counter standing in the central hall, which had a cute secretary sitting behind it, turning from her screen to me with a practised smile.

Which slowly fell from her face the more and more she had to crane her neck to look up at me, seeing my shades-wearing face grin back down at her.

"H-How may I help you? Sir?"

Placing one elbow on the countertop, I leisurely lean against the black marble, my tone easy and somewhat flirting.

"I'm here to see one of your lawyers."

"And who might that be sir?"

"Jeri Hogarth."

* * *

"Sir! Sir, you can't just walk in there! Sir! Sir, _you don't have an appointment_!"

I ignored the calls of the secretary, who amazingly enough had followed me all the way to Jeri's floor as I just kept on walking, my great strides due to my long legs easily keeping me ahead from the flustered girl in her high heels.

Finally I spot Trinity's office, and without further ado, I simply barge inside, making the lawyer-lady nearly jump out of her chair in surprise, before her eyes fall on me and her nostrils widen in rage.

"How dare you just waltz in here like that!"

Before I can reply, the secretary has finally caught up to me, her entire face going white as she spots the furious face of Hogarth.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I _told_ him that he needed an appointment in order to see you, but he just wouldn't stop."

"Thank you Martha, I'll take it from here. Call security, ask them what the _hell_ they are doing that this man can just walk into my office unopposed, then have them come here and throw him out at once!"

If she thought her tirade would scare me off, then she was sorely mistaken as I simply sauntered over to the chair in front of her desk, slowly lowering myself onto the furniture as to not accidentally crush something underneath my weight by just flopping down on it.

"R-Right!"

And with that, the girl turns on her heel, making her skirt flare nicely around her hips as she stalks away. Looking at Hogarth from the corner of my eye, I can see her give the secretary an equally appraising glance, and I can't help but chuckle.

Seeing the questioning look she sends me, I decide to elaborate.

"A fine choice."

Somewhat made uncomfortable by my apparent ease even after I had just heard that security was on its way to throw me out, Hogarth slowly sat down in her office chair again, regarding me warily.

"Yes, Martha is a highly qualified secretary-"

"Not what I meant." I interrupted, giving the woman a knowing smirk, causing her eyes to widen and her lips to compress.

"I'm sure that I have _no_ idea what you are replying." She says primly, though her tone is dangerous and getting the hint I back off with a smile.

For a moment, an awkward silence falls over the office as we just look at each other, one which I deliberately allow to stretch in order to make Hogarth as uncomfortable as possible, as I'm hoping that if I can get her on the back-foot, she'll be easier for me to employ for my own causes, instead of getting trapped in her lawyer-talk once she gets going.

Seeing her shift in her chair, I decide to start Step 11b: Have Hogarth make sure that my company is up to standard and ready to take the world by storm.

"Tell me something, Miss Hogarth-"

" _Mrs._ Hogarth." She interrupts with the frosty voice, absent-mindedly rubbing at the wedding band on her finger, though the reply seems more of a reflex to me than genuine outrage.

"Mrs. Hogarth." I acquiesce with a smile, before continuing.

"I have a business proposition for you."

Trinity narrows her eyes at my blasé tone, before dismissing me with a wave of her hand.

"In that case, you should've made an appointment, as Martha has told you _repeatedly_."

"Let's not kid ourselves here, Mrs. Hogarth. It would've taken months before you would've even considered seeing me, if at all. I thought it better to get your attention this way."

And with that, I reach forwards (seeing Hogarth lean back in response, maintaining distance between us) as I place the bulky case on her desk, ignoring her fuming expression as it's now sitting one what seemed like important files she had been in the process of working on.

"Sir, I don't know what the meaning of this is-"

At that moment, the door behind me opened, and glancing over my shoulder I could see an older overweight gentleman with two brutes besides them (though compared to my own bulk they really didn't look like much) and Hogarth continued in a smug tone as her security team stood behind my chair.

"-but this is the part where you leave my office. I would say good day to you, but we lawyers already have a reputation for being liars, so I'll just admit that I sincerely hope I'll never see you again."

After she's done speaking, the fat man walks forwards, placing a chubby hand on my broad shoulder, his voice hard as he glares at me.

"Right son, fun's over. Let's get you out of here."

Slowly I can see his expression going from an attempt at intimidating to confused, and briefly I wonder why when I notice that the knuckles on his hands are white with the pressure he's exerting on my shoulder.

Besides a very light touch, I don't even feel it.

Grinning to myself, I turn back towards Hogarth, who'se looking confused as to why her security is merely touching me instead of hauling me off.

"I'm not leaving until you've opened the case, Mrs. Hogarth."

My refusal to leave spurs one of the brutes into action, who approaches my other side, placing his hand underneath my arm with an annoyed grunt as he gives a heave.

"All right, sir, you're leaving _now_ -"

Only to nearly dislocate his arm as I don't even budge. Smiling to myself, I cross my legs as I lean back into the chair, folding my hands underneath my chin as I keep my eyes focused on Hogarth, who I can see is starting to understand just what's going on here.

"Open the case, Mrs. Hogarth. Inside you'll find something that'll make the both of us _very_ rich."

"What the…" the older security guard murmurs to himself in shock, as his colleague is now violently tugging at my arm, throwing his whole body into the motion.

It's like watching someone trying to tear down a statue with his bare hands.

While I could easily fight off Hogarth's entire security team, that would honestly be some really bad PR for me, since beating up guys who're just doing their jobs is unlikely to go over well with the masses and I doubt that Trinity would like to do business with me after seeing me curb stomp these squishy humans.

So instead, I just remain seated in my chair, as I slowly start heating up my skin, making both guards let go with yelps of pain.

Glancing from her guards to my unmoving position across her, Jeri finally glances at the case in front of her, and I can see her thinking about my offer of riches, before she squares her shoulders.

"This had _better_ be something good, Mister-"

"McCole. Michael McCole."

Catching the eye of her head guard, Jeri motions for him to leave, which he does very reluctantly, him and his two goons throwing distrustful looks over their shoulders back at me, before they're finally gone through the door and I'm alone with Trinity.

Giving me one last weary look, Hogarth undoes the clasps on the side of the heavy-duty case, and in one quick movement throws open the lid, quickly scooting backwards as she does so, carefully looking inside to see-

"What am I looking at?"

"I call it a Blue Box."

Looking at me over the edge of the case's lid, Hogarth gives me a very droll look.

"How… imaginative."

I merely shrug at her barb, still in the same position as when her guards experienced first-hand what the difficulties were of moving someone with super durability who has no intention of moving.

"Do you have any blueprints?"

"They are underneath the device."

I hear the shuffling of papers as Hogarth thumbs though the small booklet in which the specs of my Blue Box are written, dumbed down enough for a high schooler to understand.

And Jeri understands it just fine, if her small gasp is anything to go by.

"These numbers, of what it can generate… are those _real_?"

"100% real, Mrs. Hogarth, confirmed after extensive testing by myself, as well as two doctors and an engineer."

"The part in the file about emissions. Where's the rest of it?"

"That is _all_ of it."

"You're fucking with me."

Hogarth's flat tone and unexpectedly course language takes me by surprise, and I let out a chuckle before I can control myself.

"No ma'am, those numbers are _very_ real."

For a moment, Jeri just looks at the Blue Box in wonder, and I can already see plots and calculations forming behind her eyes.

"If this is true, then…"

"It would revolutionize the way the world uses energy? A new era for transportation, for machinery, for standards of living? All that and more, Mrs. Hogarth, all that and more."

Giving a slow, thoughtful nod in agreement, Hogarth's eyes remain fixed on the Blue Box, as she starts to catch on to the full implications of the advanced piece of technology in front of her.

There's still one problem though.

"I'm inclined to believe you on whether this thing works or not, and that it is in fact capable of doing the things you claim it can do."

Before a smile can fully form on my face, she cuts in again, raising a hand to stop me from interrupting her.

" _But_ , that's because of a single reason, which as it happens is also the reason why I won't help your company market it."

While I had expected something like this, it was still somewhat disappointing to just hear my proposition denied like that, and I can't keep it entirely from showing through my voice as I reply to her.

"And just what might that reason be Mrs. Hogarth?"

"I've heard of these kind of numbers only once before, and while I might not be a scientist, I know enough to recognize Stark-tech when I'm looking at it. I'm not going to waste my life and career trying to fight _Iron Man_ on corporate theft."

I try to placate her fears, but I already know that I'm fighting a losing battle. Tony Stark was _the_ man in business. Sure, the Army didn't like him at all since he had stopped making weapons for them, and Fury most likely felt the urge to strangle the smug man at least thrice a day, but the public loved him, and Stark Industries had been a giant in global industry ever since World War II.

Stark (both father and son) had appeared untouchable for so long, people like Hogarth didn't even _consider_ trying to get into a fight with them, even if they had a chance at winning. Hammer had tried it for years, and all that he had to show for it during that time was being forced to play second fiddle to Tony, only to end up in jail.

People who crossed a Stark generally tended to regret doing so eventually.

Still, there's no harm in _trying_.

"Mrs. Hogarth, do you know how many people have made an Arc Reactor for public use?"

Trinity gives a slow blink as she considers my question, looking for the hidden angle in the obvious looking question.

"Tony Stark, of course."

I give a grin at her answer as I lean forwards in my chair, Hogarth subconciously mimicking my movement.

"Nope! Sure, he has made Arc Reactors for _himself_ , but nobody else is flying around with that kind of tech in their chest. _Nobody,_ Mrs. Hogarth. Not just the public or other tech companies, the goverment and all their various organizations don't either, even though Stark used to be their biggest contractor. Now, what does all that tell you?"

Slowly I can see realization dawn in the woman's eyes, as she leans back into her office chair a little, her gaze distance as she mulls over the full implications of what I'm telling her. Then her eyes snap to mine, and I can see a predatory glint in her eyes when she figures it out.

"He didn't take out a patent on it. _Technically,_ we could be the first ones to bring the Arc Reactor to the market." she says in awe.

Clever girl.

I give the lawyer a sly grin as I place my fist underneath my chin, my entire posture one of practised nonchalance, my entire air a mix of just the right amounts of carefree and determined.

"We _could_ win this, Hogarth. If you're up for it it, that is."

I can tell that she's seriously considering it, and for a moment it seems as if she's going to agree as her eyes travel from the rapport to the Blue Box and back again, but then she lets out a sigh and closes her eyes with a shake from her head.

"Even if we might, _might,_ win, Stark will come down on us like a ton of bricks. For fuck's sakes, the man gets captured, escapes using self-made power armour, only to _return_ there and blow his kidnappers to kingdome come! And over _here_ , he has a multi-billion company and an army of lawyers behind him! And you want _me_ to fight that man? Again, what you got here is clever, I won't deny that, but I won't risk my career by pissing off a man as powerful as Stark. I won't do it." she says with heavy emphasis, and I can tell that she fully means it too.

I gave a deep theatrical sigh at the lawyer's words, fishing something from the inside pocket of my suit jacket, fiddling with it in a painfully obvious manner as I start talking to myself in a clearly fake morose tone of voice.

"Ah, that's _such_ a shame. Understandable, of course, but a such a shame nonetheless. Why if _only_ there were something to help me convince you. Just this _one_ thing, but oh what could it possibly be?" I muse to myself, glancing at Hogarth from the corner of my eye with a sly smirk.

Who kept following the small vial that I was rolling around between my palms with her eyes, until curiosity got the better of her and she gave an annoyed sigh.

"What is that, Mr. McCole?"

"Oh _this_ little thing?" I say in a faux-surprised tone, and to my amusement I can see that my purposely bad acting is getting on her nerves.

"Why it's just a little something that me and my team cooked up. It's not even all that useful really. All it does is return someone to the prime of their life, without any drawbacks or a hint of pain, at a fraction of a cost of years of plastic surgery."

And with that, I gently place the vial in front of Jeri on her desk, who can't keep her eyes off of it after my bomb-shell.

"What?" she mutters to herself in awe, and pressing my advantage now that I had broken her suspension of disbelief, I gesture to the case once more.

"Of course, I wouldn't make such a bold claim without any proof to back it up, so if you would please pick up the tablet on the bottom of the case, please?"

Hesitantly following my instructions, Hogarth picked up the tablet, only to nearly drop it when it immediately switched on, showing Burstein sitting in the living room of what could only be the house of an elderly person, judging by the sheer amount of knitting that was visible, as well as the old, shrivelled up lady that was sitting next to my scientist on the plush couch.

The old lady was actually someone Toomes had put me in contact with, partly to mess with me and partly to see how I would react, and just what my plans were exactly. The venerable old lady was nearing 80, but a rough life as a single mother of four had taken its toll, and while she was beloved by most of her neighbourhood (including Toomes) due to always standing ready for anyone if they needed help, she was unable to support herself in her old age, living mostly of donations from her friends and remaining family.

Today, that would change.

Before I had come here, I had tried to calculate every possible outcome of my conversation with Hogarth (and while it was of course impossible to determine _every_ social human interaction, I felt I came pretty far nonetheless) and I had taken into account that I would need to show her my greatest trump card at the moment in order to convince her to work for me.

So I had sent Burstein to the house of the old lady with a tablet and a vial, and told him my plan, only to enact if we contacted him through the devices. When Jeri inadvertently face-timed them by picking up the tablet from the case, they were both drinking tea from fine china, and apparently Burstein saw something switch on the screeen at his side of the conversation, as he lowered the cup with a smile, giving an excited little wave at the screen.

To my immense amusement I saw Hogarth start waving as well in her stupor, before she caught herself, sending me a deathly glare when she caught my amused snort.

"Ah hello there, Mrs. Hogarth, correct?" Burstein called out, and at Hogarth's confirming nod, he continued.

"Right, I'm assuming Michael told you about our Rejuvenation Serum, which is why we're face-timing right now. In order to give you proof that it actually does indeed work, I have my lovely assistant here with me!" Burstein says with a happy smile, turning to his side with a wide sweep of his arm, indicating the old lady sitting next to him, who raised her hand and gave a shaky little wave of her own.

"Now, Ms. Jackson, if you would please ingest the Rejuvenation Serum? Here, let's wash it down with some tea shall we?" Burstein told his 'assistant', who nodded at the scientist's exited proposal, giving a soft smile of her own as she held out her little cup and saucer.

Pulling the stopper from a vial similar to the one now lying on Hogarth's desk, Burstein emptied the contents into Ms. Jackson's cup, stirring it gently with a silver spoon, before handing it back to her.

To the aged lady's credit, she nearly downed the entire cup in one go, a small shudder going through her frame as she squeezed her watery eyes shut with an adorable scrunched up face.

"Oof! So _bitter_!" she said in good humour.

And that's when Hogarth nearly screamed out loud.

Because, right in front of her, in real-time, she was looking on as Miss Jackson slowly started to de-age, looking like she was in her early sixties within ten minutes, and looking not a day over forty after another fifteen minutes.

Unfortunately for Miss Jackson, we hadn't dared to make the effects more powerful, as we were afraid that the impact of Extremis on such a frail body would give a too great of an initial shock to her system, killing her before the effects could really take effect.

Still, looking forty years younger after roughly half an hour was more than enough.

Slowly tearing her eyes away from the tablet in front of her (which showed the 80 year old lady literally jumping from her couch in a single smooth movement, catching the laughing Burstein in a bear-hug that nearly lifted him off his feet) her head turning towards me as her face was filled with shock.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but no words came out, before her eyes settled on a familiar looking vial in front of her on her desk, shining innocently in the light streaming into the office from the windows behind the powerful lawyer.

Once more Hogarth looked at me, before she put her trembling hands flat on the wooden surface of her desk, squared her shoulder and took a deep breath, before she looked at me with the professional mask of a top-tier businesswoman (though I could see her eyes keep flitting back towards the vial occasionally).

"And just who shall I be representing, Mr. McCole?"

I grin in triumph at snaring yet another pawn for my short-term goals, and as I lean forwards I tell her the name of my company, which I had chosen after realizing who my true rival was in my quest for omnipotence, even if we had yet to cross paths.

"Titan Solutions."

* * *

My company struck the global market like a bomb. Within days, I had offers from just about every major car company in the world, every single fabricator of airplanes, as well as public transport.

And that was just the motorised side of things.

Hogarth (who now looked to be barely thirty) had really come through for me, and made sure to promote the multi-functionality and low-emission of my Blue Box with the major players in various branches of industry and even the government and local authorities (how she even got the pull for such things I didn't know and frankly I'd rather not find out).

She found other lawyers and business officials who she felt could be trusted not to screw me over, who in turn started brokering deals between Titan Solutions and the veritable tidal wave of companies that wanted to get their hands on the advanced piece of technology, given that it was currently the only one of its kind (on the market, that is).

Truthfully, I had neither a head for business, nor a taste for it, so I was more than happy to just hand the reigns of turning my new company into a technology giant over to Hogarth, who just stared at me like I was an idiot at the amount of freedom I gave her, before she just shook her head and got to work.

Making me a millionaire.

Honestly, I had preferred for one of my scientists to take the lead in the company, but after I came back from my meeting with Hogarth late at night (we had kept on discussing our strategy for another _six_ hours, before she sent me home with the message that we would pick up where we left off the following day) I sat down in our living room, Sterns and Burstein on the couch reading scientific journals (Sterns was reading two at once) with Mason lying on his stomach in front of the TV on the rug I had bought, a dissasembled Blue Box in front of him.

When I took a seat in my favorite armchair, snagging a piece of left-over pizza from the coffee table as I did, I offered them the CEO position of Titan Solutions.

All three just immediately went 'not it!' and then gleefully laughed at my expense of being stuck with the corporate side of things for the forseeable future, instead of the SCIENCE! part of things.

While the Blue Box had fulfilled its task of putting my company on the map quite beautifully thanks to Hogarth's contacts and knowledge of what to outsource to whom, it was the next piece of technology that Titan Solutions put out that won the heart of the common people and captured their imagination, making sure that I was untouchable as far as S.H.I.E.L.D. was concerned.

We didn't reveal the Rejuvenation Serum to the public, as that was meant to be something that would spread from word of mouth amongst the richest tiers of society, which would allow us to bleed them dry while circumventing FDA-regulations.

No, we promoted something even more amazing.

We told the world that we had found a cure for Alzheimer's.

Using the way the amount of neurons in his own brain had increased, as well as the way the neurons in mine (and Burstein's and Mason's as well) worked far more efficiently, Sterns had found a serum which would counter-act the degenerative effects Alzheimer's had on the brain, effectively curing it.

Unfortunately a lifetime solution was nearly impossible to create (though that didn't stop Sterns from working on it), but with the way things stood, we could cure people of one of the most terrible diseases that plagued the human race, with only one shot every two to three years when the effects of Alzheimer's started to act up again.

Revealing _that_ had secured us interviews with every major news outlet across the country, even though we kept stressing that, due to FDA-regulations, it would still take a very long time before we could actually start curing people.

Nobody cared.

To them, we had gone from complete unknowns, to national heroes overnight.

Which brought the scariest part of this venture with it.

Actually going public.

It would be the first time in more than half a year that Sterns would be walking freely in public (disregarding the rural little village in Africa where he had become some sort of witch-doctor to the local people), and I certainly wasn't entirely comfortable myself with showing my face on every TV in America, effectively taunting S.H.I.E.L.D.

Still, everything went better than expected really. Audiences usually reacted with shocked gasps whenever Sterns walked onto the stage, but with my hulking form beside him (I always made sure that my eyes were glowing a bright orange, though I also made sure to sound as eloquent as possible whenever I was asked to speak in order to not be seen as a mere brute) nobody got it in their minds to harass him over his mutated appearance.

And then when he delivered our pre-prepared sob story about how the Abomination had forced his mutation, which caused him to hide out of fear, but not give up on trying to help humanity from the shadows because of his inherent humbleness, he quickly turned into an almost martyr-like figure. Someone who used a deformity cruelly enforced on him to better the people around him.

While it didn't go viral like the Blue Box and the Alzheimer's cure had gone, the finished product of Burstein's bulletproof leather experiments were very positively received by the NYPD, as we were willing to supply a material far superior to Kevlar at a way cheaper price.

I had also used the pieces to line the insides of my armour, both as yet another layer of durability as well as an isolating material, which allowed me to reach greater temperatures without worrying about frying my suit.

As far as the world was considered, Titan Solutions had made it, and made it big time too.

Of course it couldn't last. Sooner or later (and I was banking on _sooner_. Maybe something between one and two weeks, if Pepper didn't alert him before that of course) Tony Stark would put two and two together and realize that the new technology that had taken the energy industry by storm had awfully similar specs as his own tech and then there would be hell to pay, though with Hogarth at my side I had at least a hope of stalling (or hell, even _winning_ from) the genius until I was powerful enough that it really didn't even matter anymore whether or not he would win the inevitable lawsuit.

And that's not even getting into regular spooks like the CIA taking one look at my super strong body or they would try to get their hands on my research, with S.H.I.E.L.D. right on their heels.

However, just 'disappearing' me or seizing my company was completely out of the question, if the sheer amount of times I showed up on social media sites or on TV in a top trending article was anything to go by.

I was a huge celebrity, with some decrying me as a freak or even a demon, but also with a smaller group of people calling me the next step in human evolution.

The majority merely thought I was something to fanboy about when they saw me lift a school bus over my head with ease for a publicity stunt (which incidentally involved a _lot_ of structural shenanigans worthy of a Penn and Teller preformance).

Gone was the need for stealth, or trying to operate without getting seen, now I just walked around in public in broad daylight, someone stopping me every ten meters or so, asking for a selfie with me. Apparently the deals Hogarth had my army of lawyers broker as well as my newfound celebrity status had made various shadow organizations to keep to a 'wait and see' approach for now, as I was too much of a public figure to move overtly against.

After all, I was the guy who found the tragic hero, Doctor Sterns, and who had allowed the good man to experiment on me, offering myself up as a guinea pig so that humanity could be advanced.

The parallels between Steve Rogers and myself which I deliberately enforced (I taught myself to speak with an authentic Brooklyn accent, and even lied about being an infirm youth before my transformation) certainly didn't hurt.

One of the more unforeseen benefits of suddenly finding myself amongst one of the most famous people in the world (or, well, at the very least New York) is that _other_ famous people wanted to hang out with me (more likely though they just wished to be seen with me).

Still, I had _Will Smith_ listed in my phone's contacts!

How awesome is that!?

And abusing my newfound status as one of the (soon to be) rich and (most definitely) famous, I had managed to get myself a V.I.P-ticket to an event tonight where an upcoming singer would be making her debut.

Trish Walker, with her hit song 'I want your Cray-Cray', or whatever it was called.

I walked towards the club, making sure that people saw me going to the party and stopping for every autograph and selfie request that was made in order to make people even more sympathetic to me. Feeling particularly cheeky, I waved to my CIA tail for the night, which I saw was a different one that had been posted outside of my factory the day after I had gone public.

Oh look, my NSA tail thought I had been waving at him!

Goverment spooks (or _worse_ ) had been hounding my steps every moment since my great big mug had been shown on national television, but not a single one had dared to make a move as I made sure to be seen by the masses every moment I stepped outside, interacting with regular civilians.

All of it just to keep me in the mind of as many people as possible in order to label myself as too hot to handle for covert organizations like S.H.I.E.L.D.

Finally, after a three hour walk, I finally entered the club, and there she was in all of her beautiful glory.

Trish Walker, in a red latex corset on the big screen.

And oh yeah, Jessica Jones was there as well I guess.

Walking towards the sullen girl who was trying her hardest to gain attention by looking as broody as she could, I couldn't help but compare the two sisters to each other.

One was almost frail looking and flat as a board, while the other had a strong, feline face with a body that had all the right curves in all the right places. One had bleak skin and listless black hair, while the other had a healthy tan on her and vibrant golden hair. One dressed herself as is she bought her clothes from a thrift shop, the other was currently dancing in a short Gucci-dress.

In my previous life, I had somewhat of a crush on Trish Walker, and it seemed that my tastes haven't really changed, even after rebirth.

Though in this life I _did_ like Asparagus for some weird reason.

Unfortunately, tonight I needed to deal with the sister that looked like a depressed, bedraggled cat that was accidentally dragged inside, instead of her bombshell of a sister who was currently having the time of her life.

Of course, before I could get to her I needed to worm my way through a throng of people, which wasn't made any easier when they began to recognize who I was (I have a fairly unique body type after all) and they started swarming me, Trish's performance forgotten for the moment.

While annoying, good PR is currently all that stands between me and shady government officials who want to cut me open and see what makes me tick, so I put on my best smile and started shaking hands and signing autographs (a highlight of the night was when a girl, instead of offering me a piece of paper or something, simply lifted up her shirt with a challenging grin) as I went over to Trish and her posse.

"Michael! You came!"

I could tell Trish was pretty far gone by this point, as she let out a great holler of glee and hugged me with a flying tackle. Taking it in stride and deciding to just enjoy having a beautiful woman in a thin dress press herself close to me, I let out a booming laugh of my own and hugged her back.

"Of course Trish, when I got the invite I just _knew_ I had to come!" I replied, putting on a faux-enthousiastic tone of voice which grated on my own ears.

Anything to keep the public mask in place.

PR is life.

Literally.

"Oh! Oh, oh oh! Have you met my friends?!"

And with that she drags me off to shake hands with what I have labelled in my head as ' _the_ most boring people on planet earth'.

Seriously.

How could you _possibly_ stretch a discussion about shoes to last more than an hour!?

Still we finally, _finally_ came to the real reason why I had responded to Trish's agent contacting me for this night's party.

"And this is my sister Jessica!"

Said sister turned around with a roll of her eyes, undoubtedly annoyed at one more 'friend' of Trish's she has to meet, but when she finally saw me, her eyes lit up with interest.

As I'm the closest things she's come to meeting someone who is like her, I'm not surprised.

"Hello there!" I boom easily over the loud music, getting a hesitant nod in return.

For the following hours I remained close to the two siblings, making sure to strike up conversations with Jessica as often as I could, though Trish seemed to be the jealous type, as she kept demanding my attention.

Eventually, the events played out much the same like in the show (though I was surprised to find that this time, I featured in the heated discussion between them when they left the club, with Trish drunkenly exclaiming that Jessica always took her stuff, even her new friends) after which Jessica demolished an ATM and Trish took off in a limo.

Honestly I'd much rather have gone with the limo instead of following Jessica's footsteps as she made her way from the party in some aimlessly wandering direction, but Jessica was useful to me, while Trish (other than a possible one night stand, which might even turn out to be deadly for her given the internal heat of my body) simply wasn't.

Which lead to me calling out to the lithe woman with bills stuffed down her shirt roughly two blocks away from the party as we were walking across a small plaza which had stone tables for playing chess scattered across it.

"You do know stealing is wrong, don't you?!"

Jessica froze in her tracks, before shooting a furtive glance at me as I approached her from behind.

"The fuck are you talking about?"

I continued to walk until I was standing in front of the young woman, who was somewhat hunched over and holding her arms protectively in front of her stomach.

"You know, I have seen a lot of weird shit in my life, put a girl who's what, a hundred pounds soaking wet, rip apart an ATM like it's made of rice-paper? Now _that's_ something you don't see every day." I said with a deep chuckle, keeping an eye on passer-by's.

Thankfully, due to the late hour there were hardly any people on the streets, and while I did get a look or two, most people seemed content to just hurry on home to their beds.

"Look, I don't know what you think you saw-"

"I saw you rip apart an ATM, then reach inside and take the cash."

"…. No matter what you _think_ you saw, I didn't do shit."

And with that she walks past me, trying to shoulder me out of the way as she goes, which surprises me when she actually succeeds in moving me, and which surprises _her_ when I barely stumble from her shoulder check.

Turning with her, I call out to her as she tries to walk away from me, though I can see the interest in her eyes increase at actually experiencing a portion of my strength first-hand.

"Aren't you tired?"

Giving me a puzzled look, Jessica doesn't stop walking, forcing me to try and keep up with her, which my longer strides allow me to do easily.

"Tired? Of what, you?" she bits out, but all I do is laugh, which as expected, only serves to make her even more annoyed.

"No, of hiding what you can do."

 _That_ puts her to a stop, looking down at the nose of her boots, her black hair falling across her face like an imitation of a particularly unflattering curtain.

"I _have_ to hide."

"Why?"

"Because-!" Jessica starts to yell, whirling around to face me with fire in her eyes, but the fight quickly leaves her when she actually starts to consider what she's about to say.

"Because? Because of what? Your sister?"

Not getting a response from the heartbroken young woman in front of me, I decide to press on.

"Look, I didn't hear all of what you were shouting at each other outside of the club back there, but I _did_ catch an argument revolving around money."

Jessica still doesn't react, so I'll take it as a positive sign and continue talking.

"Let me guess, she's the rich one, and you're the poor one that needs to mooch off of her?"

Finally I get a reaction from her, as her head whips up to face me, and she shoots forwards until we're standing chest to chest, her finger poking me heard in the stomach (hard being somewhat relative here: had I been a baseline human, those taps would've been enough to send me to the ground, gasping for air, but as I was now I barely even registered them other than soft little impacts).

"I don't fucking need her! I don't need anybody!"

"Yes, as you have so astutely proven by robbing an ATM. Clearly, you are doing great for yourself." I reply, sarcasm almost physically dripping from my every word, and while Jessica wants to contest my claim, the fact that she is currently pressing said stolen money against her stomach clearly takes some of the fight out of her.

Time to go for the kill.

"Allow me to propose a deal."

At my words, Jessica gives me a disgusted look and quickly backs away from me, her arms closing a little tighter around her body. For a moment I don't understand her sudden reaction, but when it hits me I nearly face-palm.

"Not _that_ kind of deal! God, what the hell is wrong with you!"

"Me?! You're the one that goes up to me in the middle of the night, and offers me a 'deal'! What the hell was I supposed to think, creep!"

"Are you kidding me right now?! I'm not a creep!"

"Is exactly what a creep would say!"

"For God's sakes woman, you're not even my type!"

"See! This _is_ about sex with you isn't it!"

"Would you just-" I trail of in fury, my hands itching to strangle the enraged woman in front of me, before I let out a deep breath in order to sooth myself (which due to my high temperature and the cold of the December night, makes me billow out a great cloud of steam) as I pitch my nose in a desperate move to try and stay calm.

"Look, I was just going to offer you a job, so you don't need to mooch of your sister anymore, or rip apart ATM's for a bit of cash."

Calming down a bit at my offer of a job, Jessica gives me a sceptical look as she starts to lose her aggressive stance a little.

"You? Give me a job? Why?"

 _'Because I_ ** _really_** _want to see just how the same chemical gave Matt Murdock super-senses gave you superstrength and (more importantly) **flight.**_ '

I give an careless shrug, and decide to mix in a little truth here, in a bid to try and fool her detective senses.

"You seem plenty smart, and I could always use someone in my company who is about a sixth as strong as me."

Now, that wasn't an accurate statement (truthfully, while I knew that I was stronger than Jessica by quite a margin, I had absolutely no idea just how large that margin actually was so far all I knew a sixth was actually the true scale) but that didn't matter as I had said it solely to rile her up.

"A sixth?" she asked irritated, at which I gave the most nonchalant expression I could get to form on my face.

"Eh, somewhere about there, if not a bit weaker."

"I'm _not_ weak." Jessica nearly growls, and it's honestly almost adorable coming from such a little women like her.

Letting a grin cross my face, I cross my arms in front of my broad chest, lifting my chin in challenge.

"Prove it. I propose an arm-wrestling contest, and here's the wager; if _I_ win, then you come work for me, with a salary of about what you're holding there each month. In the extremely unlikely event of _you_ winning, I'll give you ten times of what you stole tonight and never bother you again."

My challenge, combined with the promise of a lot of money and all of the alcohol already in her system, has her quickly fired up, and she walks over to one of the chess tables, taking a seat and lifting her arm with a confident smirk.

I take a seat across from her, and engulf her tiny hand in my massive one, smirking right back at her.

"Ready? One. Two. Thr-"

"Haha! Suck it!"

Of course she would start pushing before I finished counting.

What amazes me is the fact that she's actually making something of a headway in working my arm towards the marble table top (despite the fact that I'm not even really _trying_ to stop her right now), even though she is not even half my weight.

 _'Damn, what the hell is in those chemicals? I gotta get me some of that.'_

As I'm contemplating that, I can see that Jessica is both grinning at her oncoming victory as well as puzzlement furrowing her brow due to the fact that it's taking her this much effort, as she's getting red in the face and is sweating quite profusely.

Which is when I start pushing back.

Briefly I can see the shock in her eyes when our clenched fist suddenly tip to the other side of the table, but to her credit, even when using roughly a quarter of my strength, she's still not out for the count yet.

Which is amazing, because at this level I'm pretty sure that I could throw around cars.

Still, it's clearly taking a toll out of the lithe woman in front of me, as she's desperately panting in exertion, her entire body trembling with all the effort she'd putting in keeping her fist from touching the table.

So being the sportsmanlike gentlemen that I am…

I turned my strength up a notch.

"SHIT!""

And with those eloquent words, Jessica's fist is slammed straight into the stone table, cracking it across its length as she's nearly thrown to the ground due to my final feat of strength.

Standing up from my seat (and shaking my hand loose, because _damn_ that girl got a grip) I turn my back on the shocked looking Jessica as I slowly walk away, leaving my business card on the table as I do so.

"You start at nine in the morning. Don't be late."

And with those words I'm gone, disappeared into the night.

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Chris Evans turned down an offer to play Captain America, not once, not twice, but three times. Due to his past experiences playing the Human Torch in Marvel's Fantastic Four franchise, Evans knew what it was like to be a part of a high-budget film with less than favourable reception. Eventually Evans agreed to accept the part when he was able to negotiate his contract down to six films instead of the original nine and got over his fears.


	16. Omake 2: Extreme(-is) sheepherding

**AN:** This Omake was inspired by a reader on SpaceBattles asking what would happen if you were to enhance sheep with Extremis. This is my response.

 _ **Extreme(-is) sheepherding**_

* * *

"Captain's Log, Stardate 2023 by the reckoning of the native species in this solar system. We aboard the _Undertaking_ are currently in stealth-mode above a planet designated 'Earth' by the local dominant species, it being the third body from a yellow star in the Sol system. It has one moon, which they seem to have dubbed 'Moon'. We have made a note of the extraordinarily unimaginative naming system this species has developed."

The captain shifted in his seat as he mulled over his next thoughts, the colourful lights on the ceiling and various control panels on the command deck making the myriad of badges on his maroon shirt glint with the movement.

"We have been sent by Star Command in order to verify rumours of cosmic level threats being spotted around the system, most of them originating from this planet. As a result, we have been observing these 'humans' as they have designated themselves. Our data suggests that they are still very primitive, though my Ensign has more information on that as he has been collecting data on their manners of production and consumption."

Looking up at said officer, the Captain furrowed the heavy pulsating ridge of thorny meat above his eyes that functioned as eyebrows, as he saw the youth sit completely frozen stiff behind his console, and lifting himself from his seat he made his way over to his subordinate.

"Ensign Mxcytlkg, what is the problem? I had expected your report a stoglh ago!" the Captain barked firmly, as his officer was usually very punctual, and to see the promising young male revert from such good habits would be a shame.

"My apologies, Captain Mrghldrft, but it is… it is…" the ensign said in a shocked tone of voice, prompting curiosity to rise within the aged captain, as his officers were usually more composed than that.

"What? What is it Ensign?"

"Well... I think it's best if I just showed you, Captain."

Bending a little forwards so that his six primary eyes had a better view of the screen which his Ensign was pointing at with his upper-diagonally left arm, the Captain allowed his upper mouth two twist into a grim line.

"What is so special about this, Ensign Mxcytlkg? Yes, they still rely on other sentient species for production of goods and consumption of energy, but while this is indeed primitive, I hardly see how this is anything truly extraordinary."

"It isn't that they rely on animals sir. It's the _kind_ of animals."

"Whatever do you mean by that?"

In response, Mxcytlkg used his tertiary manipulators in order to bring a picture on the main screen, which Captain Mrghldrft recognized as being one of the local fauna. It had one head on a body which sprouted only four legs (all at the underside of the torso, which was weird but then nature did come in all shapes and sizes) and was save for its head completely covered in a thick, snowy white fur.

"Do you recognize this creature, Captain?"

"Yes, I do recall seeing something quite like it in an earlier report by my predecessor. What was it called again? A shah?"

"A sheep, sir."

"Aha! Yes, now I remember! Indeed, that is a sheep, but what is so special about it, Mxcytlkg? Our estimates have determined that even a child fresh from the egg would be able to swallow one of these whole without any adverse effects?"

"Maybe during the time of your predecessor, sir. But not anymore. They've… _changed_."

And before the Captain can ask what his officer meant with that ominous message, Ensign Mxcytlkg brought up what seemed to be live-footage of a human stepping into one of their funny looking vehicles, tearing away from its stationary position in a great cloud of reddish dust.

It was called a 'pick-up truck' if the Captain remembered correctly, though it was beyond him how these humans felt safe in such tiny contraptions of paper-thin materials.

Still, it wasn't the vehicle that caught his attention, or even the human, but what the human was chasing.

A sheep.

Or what he _thought_ was a sheep, as it currently more resembled a charred, smoking bush filled with embers on four legs, and as it was running away from the truck, little pools of fire remaining in the landscape where the beast's hooves struck the ground.

And then it jumped.

A total of twenty finger bones (which translated to human measurements would be roughly equal to twenty feet).

"They aren't supposed to be able to do that? They aren't even supposed to _look_ like that?" the Captain muttered confused to himself, but his Ensign had heard him and gave a worn-out sigh.

"It gets worse, sir."

Before the Captain could ask what his officer meant with that, he saw as the sheep (?) apparently got tired of being hunted by the small vehicle behind it, crashing to Earth and bracing itself where it stood as its impact threw up a great cloud of red sand.

The pick-up didn't slow down, however, hurtling towards the sheep at what the Captain would assume to be walking speed, its primitive engine roaring with all its might even as the animal remained standing and lowered its head.

Then it shot forwards in a blur, but while the Captain had expected a head-on collision, the human driving the tin bucket swerved at the last moment, making the loading bay at the back swerve out, which the sheep hit with its full might, instead of striking the cockpit.

The truck was nearly flipped onto its side, but after a few precarious moments, it crashed back down to earth again, a smouldering dent in its side. However, the sheep hadn't gotten away scot-free either, as it seemed somewhat dazed from the harsh impact.

The human (who by some miracle was completely unharmed) jumped out of his vehicle with a spring in his step and a length of chain in his hands, which he quickly wrapped around the smoking sheep (and the Captain finally understood _why_ it was smoking: newly grown fur was torched by what seemed to be an extremely high body temperature, only to immediately grow back, leaving the animal perpetually smouldering) and made to throw it in the back of the truck.

However, the sheep didn't concede the battle so easily, and squiriming in the human's arms, the animal turned to face its captor, opened its mouth and unleashed a great bout of flame bursting forth from its jaws.

"Crikey!"

The human ducked underneath the lance of fire just in time to not lose his head (though his leather hat unfortunately perished) before he wrestled the sheep to his truck, giving the animal a firm swat upside the head when it tried to breathe fire once more. Giving a streak of curses, the man threw the sheep into the back of the loading area of his vehicle, after which he dusted off his hand with a satisfied expression on his face.

This time the captain opened all of his sixteen mouths in order to thunder across the deck (in keeping with the annoyed requests of his engineers he would refrain from adding the lightning this time) when he was stopped from doing so by his Ensign placing the top of his head (where his face was) in the palms of his feet (as those were geographically closer to the head area than any of its arms) and giving a wrung-out sob.

Which was impressive, as they didn't have any bodily fluids to speak of.

"It gets worse."

Despite the sheer _impossibility_ of those ridiculous words, the Captain couldn't help but return his attention back to the main screen, where he could see that the human was being hailed on some sort of communication device.

"Ya, what do ya want, mate?"

Because they had hacked the entirety of the human communication systems when they had arrived here (though the ship had said multiple times that it now felt… unclean, even after they flew it through the star a couple of times for a good scrub) they could pick up the words from whoever was at the other end of the conversation.

"Yeah Dave? It's me mate. Look, we got a fire down south 'o here. Ya think ya can come down and help us out?"

"Yeah sure, what happened this time?"

A long suffering sigh was the humans only answer, before his conversation partner decided to elaborate.

"One of our bloody sheep sneezed again."

"Yeah that would do it. Right, I'm on my way."

"Thanks a lot mate!"

And with that the human got back into his truck, cheerfully making his way to where the ship's sensors showed vast swathes of grasslands being consumed by an inferno, the man appearing completely unbothered by that fact.

"By the stars of the twenty-seventh and a half dimension, what _are_ those people, that they willingly keep such animals? Are they monsters? Super soldiers? Experiments gone wrong?" the Captain asked, aghast, his heart hammering in his left knee from shock.

"It's worse than that sir." Ensign Mxcytlkg said with big fat tears rolling down his face, which was impressive, considering his lack of tear ducts.

"They're Australians."

For a moment, all was silent on the deck of the _Undertaking_ , before the Captain stoically made his way towards his command chair, where he pressed a button with the tip of his sole finger.

\+ Attention, crew of the _Undertaking_ , this is your Captain speaking. Shore-leave has been suspended, _immediately_. Thank you. We shall make our return to Star Command within the next planetary revolution as we got all the data we require to make our report. At ease. +

Later that Galactic Week, a thorough report was expected by the officials high-up in Star Command. Instead they merely got a single sheet, with three short little sentences on it, though the last one was considered the most ominous the prestigious Galactic governing body had received in the last 287,678,954 years, 8 months, 3 hours and 28 minutes.

"STAY AWAY. THEY ARE ALL INSANE. THEY HAVE AUSTRALIANS."


	17. Interlude 2 - A Stark Realisation

_**Interlude 2 – A Stark realization**_

* * *

"Tony, have you seen this?" Pepper's question rang out through the inventor's workshop as she burst inside, crimson hair trailing behind her like the vengeful tail of a comet.

She came to a halt by a surprising sight, however.

Tony wasn't inventing.

Instead, the brilliant scientist was seated behind his desk, leaning back in his chair as his eyes were fixed on the holographic screens in front of him with an uncharacteristically dark look. The holograms showed the press-conference that Pepper has just been watching and which had caused her to run to Tony's lab as she felt that he _needed_ to be aware of this.

She hadn't expected him to already be on top of this though.

As if he could hear her unasked question, Tony replied, though his eyes were still fixed on the screen in front of him.

"Yeah. JARVIS picked it up and sent it to me, he thought I should have a look at it."

And what he was looking at made him both angry and wary.

Because right there on the screen, standing in a nice suit, stood a behemoth of a man (though not as large or bulky as the Hulk was reported to be) with glowing eyes and a winning smile.

"We at Titan Solutions believe in helping _everyone_. And with our Blue Box, we _will_ help everyone. The Blue Box is an advanced piece of technology which is capable of producing enormous amounts of energy, without the drawback of polluting emissions which has become the staple of fuel today. Instead, ladies and gentlemen, I give you the fuel of the _future_!" Michael McCole, the man who had allowed a gamma-mutated scientist to enhance him with God knows what, spread out his enormous hands in a picture-perfect gesture of generosity.

As a loud cheer and a wave of applause filled the conference room, Tony felt unease twist in his gut.

Not so long ago, he would have either been amused or intrigued at the notion of someone else claiming to possess advanced tech on the same level that he could produce.

That had changed ever since Vanko showed up and nearly killed Pepper and Happy right in front of him.

He had managed to recover (somewhat) from the betrayal of his mentor Obadiah because the man's Iron Monger armour had been stolen from _his_ designs, though the memory of the man standing above him while he was helpless to stop Obadiah from (in a way) literally tearing his heart straight out of his chest would probably haunt him for the rest of his life.

He couldn't make the same excuse when it came to Vanko however.

Yes, his Arc Reactor had been inferior, but it had been all made by the criminal with his own two hands, and it had been improved upon after he so foolishly gave the man the info he had needed to do it.

That had been the day that Tony Stark had to swallow a bitter pill.

There were others out there who could do what he did.

So no, he wasn't just going to laugh about or ignore this brand new company nobody had heard about before last week, that claimed they could distribute highly advanced tech to the masses, just because he had thought he was the only one capable of doing so.

He refused to make the same mistake twice.

"What are we going to do about this Tony? That man is clearly trying to sell-"

"-Arc Reactors."

Seeing her blink in surprise at his brusque tone, Tony swivelled his chair around to face her fully, his expression softening somewhat as he looked at her, his face more serious that she was used to seeing outside of life or death situations.

"It's a piece of technology that is literally close to my heart Pepper. They can dress it up all they like, give it fancy names and stuff, but there's no way in hell that I wouldn't recognize what is keeping me alive."

Walking up to him, placing a dainty hand on his shoulder, Tony saw her brows furrow lightly as she looked back at the screen again, where McCole seemed to be shaking hands with the CEO of Honda, which not only made cars for the big consumer market, but also engines for just about every field of motorsport, including F1, which boasted a multi-million budget _per race_.

Netting this deal (amongst many others) meant that Titan Solutions now was worth billions.

She should know, she had dinner with that very CEO just last week in order to arrange a deal for Stark Industries.

"How did they get Arc Reactors Tony?"

Shrugging, the scientist placed his hand on top of hers as he too looked towards the screen.

"Probably from the Stark Expo fiasco. There were plenty of pieces flying around there, so someone might have picked it up and sold it to a bunch of scientists or something. That or S.H.I.E.L.D. screwed up when they breached Hammer Industries looking for Vanko and didn't secure his blueprints thoroughly enough."

Standing up from his chair, Tony walked towards one of the multitude of tables in his workshop, his restless hands mindlessly picking up an Iron Man helmet (it would be part of his Mark VI armour, which was meant to be the first one to be fully capable of operating underwater) as the inventor inside him started to get to work, leaving him to mull over his thoughts in peace.

"How they got their hands on it doesn't matter. What matters is what _we_ are going to do about it."

"We're going to sue them. We'll bleed them dry." Pepper's voice came automatically, cool and self-assured, born from her experience in guiding Stark Industries to the top of the market which such vigour she had been named business woman of the century.

Still, Tony just absent-mindedly shook his head as his hands kept on working (lining the wiring _just so_ ought to make the data stream to his HUD 0,0056% more efficient) as he replied over his shoulder.

"Maybe. I don't think it's the best idea though. I never took out a patent on the tech, Pepper. I just figured that if I did, I'd only turn back into the Merchant of Death again by giving the people a new kind of weapon to play with. And I wasn't worried about someone making it themselves, because… well, honestly, until Vanko showed up at Monaco I never figured that anyone could."

"But this is _clearly_ corporate theft!"

At her indignant shout, Tony sighed in frustration, placing the helmet back down and leaning his back against the workbench as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, hiding his own Arc Reactor from view.

"Yes, it is. But how's it gonna look when we call him out on it Pepper? They are out there, _right now_ , selling this tech to just about everyone willing to pay for it. Which, basically, includes just about everyone who _can_ pay for it. And only _after_ deals have already been made between Titan and everyone else, does Stark Industries come out and sue them for doing it."

"Legally, we are fully in our right-"

"Pepper. People don't care about _legally_. All they care about, is that their cars and homes will become a lot cheaper to provide with energy, and when they see Stark Industries come in and try to take it all away because we have been sitting on the same damned tech for well over a year, do you know what they'll think? 'Well, if Tony Stark has had this for so long, then why didn't _he_ try to make our lives better?' And they aren't wrong."

"Tony, you're not being fair to yourself." Pepper murmured softly as she approached him, her slim arms coming up around his neck as she rested her head on his chest.

Wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her fiery hair, Tony looked conflicted, his usual playboy tendencies pushed to the background now that he was confronted with questions he hadn't even known were there, waiting to be answered.

"Am I though? Every time someone got their hands on my tech, they tried to use it to hurt me. To hurt _you_. Or they tried to turn it into weapons again. Or both. And that made it so easy to justify keeping all of it to myself. But here comes this new guy, right? And he has his hands on my tech, and all he's doing is making deals for _engines_ and _generators_ and stuff. The closest he has come to making weapons is getting into a partnership with Pym Technologies, but for the rest he turns out clean and I'm just left thinking…. You know?"

"When's the other shoe going to drop?" Pepper finished with a soft smile, pulling back a bit so she could look him in the eyes as he sighed in admittance.

"Yeah. Does that make me paranoid?"

Pepper let out a short laugh at that, before she fondly shook her head.

"No Tony. It just means you have been through a lot. More than most. And all you can think about is making sure that other people don't have to. That doesn't make you paranoid; it makes you a hero."

Tony smiled at her reassuring words, before he gently leaned in and kissed her softly, trying to convey with that action all that words failed to say. She leaned closer to him for a moment, before they both pulled back with smiles, and Tony felt that heavy weight that had been resting on his shoulders ever since he saw the conference fall away a bit.

Looking back towards the screen, he couldn't help but frown though, as he saw that McCole character wave to an adoring crowd as he walked off the stage, giving out signatures as he went, his towering size meaning that he remained clearly visible even amidst a throng of people, due to most of them only reaching the man's shoulder.

And because of the fact that a little woman only half McCole's size just kept walking in a straight line, uncaringly shoving away people out of her path with contemptuous ease and a bored expression on her face, carving a clear way for her boss to walk through.

' _One of those people that had volunteered to be enhanced by him, maybe?'_

Tony didn't know how the man had done it (though mostly likely _he_ hadn't, considering the fact that walking behind him was a suspiciously young looking Jeri Hogarth, a lawyer that even the genius inventor had heard about), but Titan Solutions had managed to include a clause in their employee contracts that stated that said employees were free to participate in human testing of experimental drugs.

Where he had found the people, Tony had no clue, but within the week of Titan Solutions entering the global market, reports had been flooding news-outlets as it became clear that the man had hired injured and maimed construction workers, and restored them to perfect health using unknown means.

Looking at one such man walking next to McCole, who Tony knew had been in a wheelchair just last month, Tony couldn't quite suppress the new wave of doubt that came over him as he once again considered just how him being Iron Man had helped the little guy.

Neither he personally, nor Stark Industries as a whole, had focused as much on medicine as they had on tech, but that was mostly because of his own preferences, not due to a lack of ability.

How many cures could _he_ have created, had he sunk his time in researching that instead of trying to figure out a way to cram even more missiles into his armour?

How many more people could he have saved if he had done that?

Sure, fighting terrorists in the Middle East had not only been cathartic, it had helped stabilize the region as well, but what had it done for humanity at large.

Sighing again (Tony was really starting to dislike how Titan Solutions made him feel, with their moral dilemma-raising antics) he looked at Pepper with a wry smile.

"Honestly? I don't _feel_ much like a hero. Yes, I _am_ Iron Man, with or without the suit, and as Iron Man I've done a lot to help people, but what have I done to improve _all_ of humanity?"

Pepper pressed her lips together, worry rising within her as she looked at her uncharacteristically morose lover. He had been behaving erratically during that awful period where he had been dying, and the betrayal of Stane combined with Vanko's attempts on his life still weighed heavily on him, but she disliked seeing him so down like this.

"Iron Man has done a lot to help people, yes, but _Tony Stark_ has helped just as many, if not more. I know that you leave much of the company to me, and I love you for that amount of trust, but you should _really_ take more of an interest occasionally into what it is that we actually do. Relief-efforts, building infrastructure, providing safe water and food to third-world countries… _Your_ company, Tony Stark, is focused on making this world a better place, and even if I do say so myself, it's doing a damned good job at it too!"

For a moment Tony remained silent at her short tirade, took in the fire in her eyes and the heated blush on her cheeks, before he captured her lips with a laugh, seeing her eyes widen in surprise, before she grinned and kissed him back.

"Where would I be without you?" he muttered softly when they released each other, though they kept staring into each other's eyes.

"Either broke or accidentally murdered in your sleep by Dummy." Pepper answered with a laugh, which caused him to chuckle as well, before they both trailed off into a comfortable silence, content with just holding on to each other for now.

"We really do need to respond to this though, Tony. Just from a purely business point of view, we can't let such an up and coming challenger grow unopposed. Right now, even with the deals they are rapidly making, they are still fairly small. You can see it in who they partner with: all of them are companies that have large enough facilities to produce Blue Boxes on their own. At this point Titan Solutions is too small to start producing tech themselves on a massive scale, so they keep selling plans to companies that _can_ , until they are big enough to start producing their own tech for the market. We need to have a response ready _before_ that happens or we could have another Rand Enterprises in terms of competitors." Pepper rattled off, her keen business mind picking apart the weak spots in her opponent with practised ease born from nearly a decade of experience.

"I thought you said you _liked_ Rand Enterprises." Tony said with a grin, which only increased at Pepper's answering sniff of disdain.

"No, I said I liked _Joy_. The rest of Rand feels… _dirty_ , especially since a couple of years ago. I keep telling you Tony, there's _something_ that just isn't quite right with them."

"Yes, you have, which is the reason why we and Rand have generally stayed out of each other's way. I _do_ listen to you, you know? Occasionally."

For a moment, both fell silent, before Tony pulled back a bit so he could look Pepper in her eyes, his face serious though his tone was concerned.

"You really think that this Titan Solutions could turn into another Rand Enterprises?"

Pepper didn't even have to hesitate in giving her answer.

"Tony. The man allowed a _gamma-mutated_ scientist to preform unknown experiments on him, which made him 8 feet tall and his glow like he's some kind of demon. Whatever else their trying to sell, cheap energy, a cure for Alzheimer's, I don't care. A company with a man so desperate for power he's willing to be turned into _that_? If anything, they'll end up worse than Rand. At least with them, they pretend to be above board."

Glancing at the screen (which JARVIS had helpfully paused on a frame of McCole looking straight into the camera, his burning eyes blazing from the hologram) Tony conceded to her point with a slow nod.

"So, no partnership then?"

"No Tony, no partnership."

"Right, then we'll have to push them out of the market while they're still small enough to be vulnerable to that kind of tactic. I'll start releasing a bit more of my Iron Man tech through Stark Industries, though nothing that can be turned into weapons. It ought to give you enough leverage at least to secure some of the bigger agencies to our side. I know for a fact that NASA has been almost literally drooling at the thought of using repulsor technology in their space-crafts."

"And the Arc Reactor? What are we going to do about the fact they clearly stole that tech from you?"

"Sue them, but expect a long battle. I've heard enough about Hogarth trough the rumour-mill to know she won't go down without a fight, and right now she has the public on her side. So before we drag Titan Solutions to court, we need to do what they are doing. Only better. That way, when they try to defend themselves using the public angle, they'll find that they don't have a leg to stand on since SI is already out there, helping people."

Pepper let out a sly grin at his fierce words, and when he looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a questioning look, she couldn't quite contain her laugh.

"I love it when you talk all business-like." She said huskily, prompting a grin from the inventor, who picked her up in his arms with ease, prompting a startled laugh from the redhead.

"Oh yeah? Well here's some more for you: monthly quota. Taxes. Depreciation. Fiscal bookkeeping."

"Oh, Mister Stark don't stop!" Pepper crooned in a faux-innocently high tone of voice, though Tony could see the glint in her eyes, and with a grin he started carrying her up the staircase, towards their bedroom.

Or the couch, depending on how long he could contain himself.

And as the inventor walked out of the workshop, the woman of his dreams in his arms, and corporate jargon and laughter floating down the stairs in equal measure, the burning eyes of one Michael McCole kept staring out from where they were captured on the holographic screen.

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** In order to give you an idea just how old Marvel really is: Marvel Comics founder Martin Goodman was meant to be aboard the Hindenberg on the day the ship famously crashed, but changed his travel plans at the last minute.


	18. An offer I refuse

**_An offer that I refuse_**

* * *

I sat at my desk in the workshop Burstein had purchased a few weeks ago, a highly advanced microscope (built by yours truly) examining Jessica's blood in front of me (which nearly ended up with me being kicked in the balls when I asked for it, until I managed to explain that it was solely in order to figure out just _how_ the chemical enhanced her, so I could either enhance her further or cure her completely. She became very quiet after I said that, before she hesitantly agreed and she still won't tell me which option she'd actually prefer).

Usually delicate lab equipment would be too small for me to manipulate with any degree of precision, but this one was special because I had taken the blueprints I stole from Wakanda so long ago, and made a haptic interface for it, like I remembered seeing from the Mass Effects games back in my old life (they sadly didn't exist in this one).

The haptic overlay was very simple, as it was nothing more than scaled up hard-light versions of the various knobs and buttons on the microscope itself, which allowed me to turn 'fake' buttons the size of dinner plates with ease, and they then translated the movements to their corresponding parts, allowing me to work in great detail.

Or it should, had I actually been working.

Instead, I was merely leaning back in my chair, long legs stretched out in front of me as I crossed my massive arms in front of my chest, Sterns wearing his six-armed exoskeleton standing next to me as we were both staring at my computer screen.

"Well, I certainly didn't expect him to do _that_." Sterns remarked in a flat tone of voice, and I can't help but nod my head in agreement as my burning eyes take in the scene in front of me.

The workshop was a hive of activity, the people Toomes had sent me gladly assisting my other two scientists on whatever project they were working on, using their enhanced strength (wherever applicable of course) in order to ferry stuff around and help with production.

Still, despite the ruckus, the speakers of the screen made themselves clearly heard above the din of the workshop. And what they broadcasted had the potential to turn into very bad news for me.

"We're looking here at what Tony Stark has claimed to be the first of many new cars for the New York metro system, which reportedly has technology inside it based on the inventor's famous Iron Man suit! These new cars will travel smoother, quieter and run on a vastly more sustainable source of energy, claims the CEO of Stark Industries. Stark Industries has released an official statement, in which they say that upgrading public transport within the city is the first step of many in improving the daily lives of all citizens and indeed, the entire world." A young reporter said, her back to the tracks of one of the many metro stations in New York, on which sat an entirely new coach.

If the old metro looked like a repurposed toaster, this new one looked like it could be a space shuttle's classier brother.

The scene switched to an easily grinning Stark, who was being surrounded by microphones and reporters on all sides, heavy shades hiding his eyes from view and reflecting the bright flashes of their cameras.

"Mister Stark! Mister Stark! Is it true that you have only _now_ begun to release your Iron Man technology to the public because of the rise of Titan Solutions and their innovations?"

Whoever the hell that was, I was gonna find him and wring his neck for asking a leading question like that. Igniting a feud between me and Tony might end up as good publicity for him, but for me it would probably turn into enough of a nightmare that I just might turn to drinking heavily.

Not that it would do much, but it's the principle of the thing.

Turning towards the reporter, easy grin still in place, Tony reached up and took of his sunglasses, revealing smiling eyes, though the resolve in them was unmistakable.

"Titan Solutions can certainly be called ambitious in their claims, and I can honestly say that it warms my heart to have inspired such bright young people to try and make this world a better place, just as I set out to do when I became Iron Man. Seeing their attempts at following in my footsteps has made me realize that, despite all that I have done for the people of Earth, I can always do _more_. A year ago, I said that _I_ was Iron Man. Today, I say: _we_ can all be Iron Man!"

At his bold shout, a massive cheer rose up from the crowd around him, enough to completely drown out the questions of the reporters, so Tony merely put his sunglasses back on and made to leave, but right before he slipped them in front of his eyes, I could see him look straight into the camera (and thus, at me) and give a sly wink.

I got the message immediately.

The game is afoot.

With a growl and a wave of my hand, the screen shut off (Sterns took one look at the haptic interface I had slaved over for _three_ days in order to make, then made all of our equipment capable of responding to simple gestures in just two. He said that he did it in order to make us all work more efficiently. I maintained that he did it just to show me up) as I leaned further back into my chair, rubbing a hand over my face.

"So, what are we going to do?" Sterns asked idly, two of his robot arms extending smoothly in order to interact with the microscope as he started looking over Jessica's blood, despite the fact that he was still standing next to me, his arms feeding data directly into his gargantuan brain.

I swear, at this point I'm convinced that not only is Sterns trying to give himself technopathy, he's actually making quite a bit of headway too.

Giving a tired shake of my head, I got up from my chair and started pacing in front of my desk, watching from the corner of my eye as a third robotic arm started writing on a pad of paper as Sterns stood motionless, sifting through data.

Honestly, I'm glad he has Oliver. Despite all of his grumbling shortly after I rescued him from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s clutches whenever I asked him to help me with my armour, he has certainly taken a shine to engineering. If it weren't for the fact that he enjoys working on his pride and joy with his own hands, I could definitely see him end up in some sort of Mobius-chair, controlling a host of robotic tentacles with his mind in order to interact with the world since he has allowed his body to atrophy.

Yeah, gotta keep an eye out so he doesn't go down that road.

As I continued my pacing, I answered my friend's earlier question.

"I don't know Sam. Frankly, I don't _want_ to know. Don't get me wrong, I like the bigger workshop, and actually having large amounts of money is more fun than I could have ever imagined, but I never wanted to run a business. I'll just sic Hogarth on Tony and continue with my own projects-"

Before I can finish my sentence, the phone in my pocket starts to ring, and as I look at the caller ID, I can't help but chuckle. At Sterns questioning look, I elaborate.

"Speak of the devil and all that."

Seeing his answering grin, I take the call as I resume my pacing (a habit left over from my previous life, where I would literally get up from my chair in order to walk while I called without even meaning to do it).

"Hello Hogarth."

"I assume you've seen the news?"

Straight to business then, as expected from a stern woman like her.

"If you mean whether or not I saw Tony Stark come out swinging by bringing parts of his own tech to the market, while dissing us at the same time, then yes, I have indeed seen the news." I reply, annoyance colouring my words as I think about how the man just subverted every expectation I had of him.

I had been prepared for the man to get riled up; I had even envisioned a scene somewhat similar to the Senate hearing in the Iron Man 2 movie, but this time with me instead of Hammer trying to go against Stark.

I certainly _hadn't_ expected for the man to just… _not_ sue me right from the get go, and start acting as my competitor instead.

A competitor with larger facilities and a longer history in the business than me, as well as enjoying far greater popularity with the masses.

Still, while _I_ hadn't considered that as a possibility, Jeri Hogarth had, if her steady tone was anything to go by.

"This is unfortunate, but it gives us a chance to expand our contacts, as well as dig ourselves in in our niche of the market. I assume you have a lot more technology ready to be rolled out? The Blue Box is great for selling to large corporations, but you'll need something far more visible if you want to swing the public back to your side again."

Thinking back on the cache of Wakandan technology I have stolen, mentally flipping through the hundreds of designs, I give a slow nod, though I belatedly realise that Hogarth of course can't see it.

"Yeah. Give me two days, and I'll have something to market."

"Make it quick. We can't allow a man like Stark to build up momentum, or the hits will just keep coming."

"I know Jeri. Two days, then you'll have something new to fight back with."

I can hear her sigh across the line, her voice sounding tired. Then again, she has been working non-stop for the past two weeks trying to turn my crazy schemes into a billion-dollar corporation, so I suppose that is to be expected.

"You know, Titan Solutions could really benefit from having you at its helm. And I don't mean that from just a purely PR point of view. I'm just your legal counsel, Mr. McCole, a company like yours should be run by its CEO."

I scuff the concrete floor of the workshop in thought, glancing at Sterns from the corner of my eye. He has stopped fiddling around with the microscope, and is instead standing about twenty feet away from me, bent forwards up to his waist in the machinery under Oliver's hood, though one of his robot arms is fixed in my direction, and when it spots me looking at it, I can see Sterns shrug (without looking back at me) clearly indicating that I should decide for myself.

"Look, Hogarth. I'll make an effort to make more appearances. More interviews, more meetings, more press-conferences, all that kinda stuff. But I don't _want_ to run the business. None of us here do, we're cool with just inventing new stuff. You've been doing fine so far: I trust you to keep the company going for a little longer, just until I find someone suited enough to take the job permanently." I say with a heavy sigh as I start using my meta-knowledge in order to see if there was anyone in this universe that I would want to have run my business for me, making me tons of money without the fear of them stabbing me in the back.

Jeri's tired chuckle brings me back from my musings.

"You _do_ realize you just said you'd trust a lawyer with your money, right?"

"Trust me Mrs. Hogarth, that's not the weirdest thing I've done. Not by a long shot." I say with a laugh, prompting another chuckle from the stern woman.

"Very well then. Tomorrow, at three pm. _You'll_ be heading the meeting with Mr. Cross from Pym Technologies. Think you can handle that?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. Thanks Hogarth."

"Thank me when we're rich."

"We _are_ rich."

"When we're rich _er_ then. Goodbye, Mr. McCole."

And without waiting for my answer, the line goes dead, the lawyer having hung up on me. Taking a considering look at the phone in my hand, I give an amused shake of my head as I slide it back into my pocket, walking back towards my desk so that-

"Who was that? A secret admirer, perhaps?"

"GAH!"

Whipping around, my hands come alive with a hellish glow, before I blink a couple of times in surprise at the smug grin Jessica Jones is sending me from where she snuck up behind me.

"God woman, why would you even _do_ that!?" I say as I calm down a bit from the sudden jumpscare, as I look at the woman in a new light.

My senses had been enhanced both by the serums and the Heart-shaped Herb, and I still hadn't even heard a whisper of a sound indicating her approach. She was _good_.

"Because I think hearing you scream like a little girl is funny?" Jones answered bluntly, her face still showing a massive grin.

"I do _not_ scream like a little girl. I didn't scream at all, I just… yelped." I rumble in dissatisfaction, not helped at all by Jessica's snort at my lame comeback.

Switching to a different tack, I sit back down in my chair again, looking at her from the corner of my eye as I grab the notes that Sterns has scribbled down during his look through the microscope.

"If you're back already, then I assume you've finished your assignment?"

"Yeah, yeah. One Melvin Potter and Betsy Beatty, standing in your oh so grand lobby. Also, the parents of that poor girl should be sued for child abuse. Really, setting your kid up with _that_ kind of name?" Jessica snarks as she walks closer, hopping onto my desk, legs dangling as she glances at me.

"Why the hell did you send me out to find them anyway? Sure New York is big, but I figure that finding Sterns or Burstein or Mason was just as hard. You could've done this yourself, so why send me?"

Turning to face her with an annoyed look as I see that she's deliberately sitting on some of my research notes, I give her an answer in the most sarcastic drawl I can manage.

"Because I think sending you out as my errand boy is funny?" I echo back to her, only to get swatted on the shoulder for my cheekiness.

Ignoring the hit (while it would've dislocated the arm on a baseline human, to me it just felt like a faint tap) I place Sterns notes back onto the desk in order to look through at a later time as I stand up and start walking towards where Potter and his sweetheart are waiting for me.

"Mostly because I've been swamped with being the public face of Titan Solutions, which is _precisely_ why I didn't want to be the CEO of a large corporation. I got better things to do than just sit around all day stuck in boring meetings. Also, because I figured that keeping you cooped up in the workshop is a hazard for the people that work here."

Again I get swatted in the shoulder, and again I ignore it. It didn't take me long to figure out that the reason Jessica enjoyed getting physical with me (oh get your brains out of the gutters, I meant the hitting and the kicking for God's sakes!) was because I was the only person she knew that she could do that with safely.

While I had started to find Superman less and less interesting as I grew up more, there was one speech of his that I always found very impressive, and it was the one about living in a world made of cardboard.

While not on the DC Comics superhero's level of strength (honestly I had a hard time figuring who in this dimension _was_ on his level. Ego, maybe?) Jessica had something of a similar problem, considering humans were just so _squishy_.

She always had to be careful with her strength, in order to not crush bones whenever someone offered a handshake, or to not break her sister's spine in half whenever they hugged.

I was the only person she knew that she could act with as if she were just a baseline human, without the worry of her superstrength breaking everything.

Still, if she could tone down the kicking, that'd be great.

"Look, I got another assignment for you-"

"Another one?! I just got back from the last one! Find whoever you're stalking yourself, creep!"

"For the last time, woman, I'm _not a creep_!"

"Says the guy who hires innocent young women to track down unsuspecting citizens!"

"You? Innocent? You better tell me who you stole that sense of humour from, I'm betting they want it back by now."

We kept bickering until we reached the 'lobby' as Jessica had so charmingly put it, which didn't really amount to more than a cleared area around the entrance, with a few comfortable couches placed inside and with a coffeemaker.

Seeing Potter and Beatty look around with wide eyes at the frantic levels of activity around them, I place my hand on Jessica's shoulder (the first time I did that she tried to dislocate my arm out of reflex, but my immense durability coupled with my greater strength meant that she just ended up dangling from my outstretched arm like some demented sloth) bringing her to a halt and ignoring her furious expression at the physical contact.

"Look, take your time before you head back out there, all right? I really want to meet this guy, his name is Holden Radcliffe and he's a brilliant scientist, but given the sheer scope of the project I'm thinking of putting him on, there really isn't that big of a time constraint on the mission since it'll take too long to be of immediate use anyway, whether you grab him today or next month. Just find him, and then report to me whenever you feel up to it. In the meantime? Go do something for yourself, try to relax and unwind. Go visit your sister, I'm betting she misses you since I _know_ you haven't talked to her ever since you started working for me."

Jessica is silent after my short speech, and I can see indecision warring inside her at the mention of her sister. Finally her shoulders slump as she lets out a sigh, waving a hand in annoyance.

"Fine, fine. Give me my cash, and I'll be out of your hair. Figuratively speaking, of course." She finishes with a grin, drawing an annoyed grumbling from me as I get out my wallet and start counting out her 'finder's fee'.

"You know you don't have to bring up my baldness in _every_ conversation we have, right?"

"Yeah, I do. I just think it's funnier that way. See ya later dumb-dumbs! Mamma needs her booze!"

And with those charming words and a cheerful wave, Jessica stalks right past the confused looking Potter and Beatty, stepping outside into the New York City high-life, and I suspect on her way to the nearest liquor store.

Shaking my head at the superhuman's antics I walk over to the lost looking couple, my best smile shining at full power as I spread my arms in a gesture of generosity.

"Ah Mr. Potter! And Mrs. Beatty! How nice of you to join us!"

Melvin looks up at me with a very child-like expression on his face, placing one arm protectively around his girlfriend's shoulders.

"The girl said you can keep Betsy safe. Can you?"

Folding my hands behind my back, I give them the most reassuring smile I can.

"Mr. Potter, I can make it so she's even tougher and stronger than your greatest suit."

Surprisingly, that statement gets a laugh out of the savant.

"Nah, sir. I make _very_ good suits and Betsy's very little." He says with pride, though at which part of his statement I'm not entirely sure, but I can see his girlfriend roll her eyes fondly, though when they rest on me her apprehension is clearly visible.

Obviously, the little woman (and Melvin is correct, because Betsy _is_ indeed very little, barely reaching her boyfriend's shoulder) is wondering whether I'm genuinly trying to help, or whether I'm just another asshole trying to take advantage of the blacksmith's unique mind.

Thing is, it's a bit of both.

I have got a bit of a soft-spot for people like Melvin ever since in my previous life I worked with the mentally disabled as part of a community project for my high school. I originally thought that I was going to help kids at a local preschool with arts and crafts, but instead I had unknowingly signed up for a charity organization that used the school's supplies in order to give the mentally handicapped a hobby.

Standing next to a tiny woman with Down's as she's proudly holding up the fully functional toy train she made in the same time it took me to hammer together a box (it wasn't even a _good_ box. It was ugly as hell, and fell apart a few months later), remains one of the most heart-warming memories I have left from my previous life.

So yes, having Potter on my side could only work out to my benefit, but I wasn't going to exploit the savant for his skills.

Before I can try to convince her of that however, Burstein comes in and unknowingly does it for me.

"Oh Michael, is this the blacksmith you've told me about? How do you do, how do you do? Now, I really want your opinion on this. I came up with it myself, but I'm a scientist, not a blacksmith, and while the NYPD was enthusiastic enough to place an order for the next five years, they have requested that we make their new body armour a bit more… stylish." Burstein babbles as he comes walking towards us from his part of the warehouse, shaking Melvin's hand vigorously with one arm, and holding out a piece of treated bulletproof leather with the other.

Despite being caught off guard by the scientist's sudden and enthusiastic greeting, I can see Melvin's eyes snap towards the piece of leather, recognition showing on his face.

Figures a blacksmith in the business of making bullet/knife proof clothing for criminals would hear about the indestructible leather that was suddenly being provided to the police.

As both he and Burstein start walking back towards the scientist's team (all of which are looking on in amusement at their boss' sudden departure and excited air), talking animatedly as they walk, I turn towards Betsy, who is looking at her boyfriend with a fond look.

Feeling my gaze on her, she turns back towards me, and despite the fact that she needs to crane her neck in order to look me in the eyes, I can see the determination within her.

"Don't hurt him. He's not stupid, he's just… special. Talented. A lot of people have taken advantage of that." She says softly, though her voice doesn't waver as she keeps looking straight into my burning eyes.

Giving a gentle smile, I half-turn back towards my part of the workshop, holding my arm out in the universal gesture for 'after you'. As she walks deeper into my lair, I try to put her mind at ease.

"Don't worry, Miss Beatty. I meant what I said; I'm going to make you more durable than even Mr. Potter's hardest suit. That way, you will be completely safe from whoever would want to put him and his talents to their own uses, and instead he gets to work with an entire team of people who will appreciate him for his expertise."

"How are you planning on doing that Mr. McCole? Melvin wasn't boasting; he doesn't really know how. But his suits really are _very_ durable."

"Well, Doctor Burstein, that excitable fellow you just met? He has discovered this procedure…"

* * *

"Look, I get that you made me, like, really smart and stuff, but do you even hear what you're asking? You want me beat _Tony freakin' Stark_ in an innovation race!"

"C'mon Mason, between the Brain Booster I gave you and all the Wakanda-tech we have, I'm sure we can come up with something."

It had taken most of the previous day in order to both enhance Betsy as well as Melvin (the blacksmith refused to let his girlfriend do the procedure alone the moment I said that it could be a bit painful, and as I had been too tired of the day's events I had just said yes and preformed it on him first), and it was bright and early now as I sat in front of Mason, telling him that Hogarth needed something to market by tomorrow or Stark would try and take the lead.

The overweight man rested his head in one hand, various tools orbiting the bulky glove he wore on the other (after seeing my haptic interfaces and Sterns motion-reactive equipment, Mason refused to be left behind and made his tools respond to magnetic impulses from the glove, giving himself pseudo-telekinesis solely applicable to a small pre-prepared set of tools. I was honestly kind of scared to find out what Burstein would come up with in response).

"Right, right. Look, I don't doubt that there's _something_ that we can make for the masses, transportation, telecommunication, or anything like that really. Between us and Wakanda we could make shit in those area's decades ahead of the competition. _But_ , I can't see us building anything in those branches that _Tony Stark_ either doesn't already have, or can't make himself in a couple of months."

Ignoring Mason's slight hero worship of the genius inventor for now, my mind instead snagged onto what the chubby man in front of me had just said, and I was suddenly reminded of a particular aircraft in the Wakandan arsenal, my mind immediately coming up with half a dozen viable designs in half that amount of seconds.

"-and then there's the fact that metallurgy is something that both our fathers taught us and-"

"Flying cars."

"Eh?"

Turning to look at the nonplussed scientist with a grin, I swipe a hand above his desk, making a haptic screen blink into life, and I start pulling up schematics, feeling like Tom Cruise from the Minority Report movie (and _oh boy_ , was Tom Cruise popular in this universe. Probably due to the fact most actors from my own universe were actual superheroes here, so a lot more movie roles automatically went to him).

"What's every boy's dream Phineas?"

"To have sex with Lucy Lawless?"

I pause in my motions, my head slowly turning towards the scientist, who is now blushing furiously, rubbing his hands together as he resolutely looks everywhere in the busy workshop except me.

"What? I got really into _Xena_ when I was younger, all right?"

Giving a tired sigh, I decided to just let it go, focusing on the schematics on the screen in front of me instead.

" _No_ , Phineas, that wasn't what I meant. What I _mean_ is this! Flying cars!"

And with those words I twist my hand, making the screen swing around the desk until its right in front of Mason's face, whose eyes widen as his Boosted brain immediately starts putting together my rough blueprints.

"This… yeah, this could work."

Looking over (or through, depending on who you ask) the screen at me, Mason let out a giddy laugh, mirrored by one of my own.

"So, flying cars huh?" he repeats to himself, his own hands coming up in order to mess with the blueprints, and I can't help but chuckle at the thought of the look on Coulson's face when we market _this_.

"Yeah. Flying cars."

* * *

It was one pm when I stepped outside of the workshop, intent on making my way towards the meeting with Cross as I had promised Hogarth I would do. However, what greeted me almost made me snort at the clear cliché.

A black limo, two bodyguards standing outside, and of course the moment I closed the door to the warehouse behind me, the door to the limo opened smoothly, though the interior was too dark to make out an occupant.

Letting out a deep chuckle, I place my hands in the pockets of my suit (sadly not a Potter design, since Melvin told me he'd need a lot more time to make something that fit someone as large as me, all the while looking at me with big puppy eyes).

"So, I'm guessing that this is the part where I give a dramatic sigh and get inside, only to meet with a shady backer of some kind of organization?"

Neither guard so much as twitches at my jest, though the one on the right inclines his head somewhat.

"Ideally, yes." He says dryly, prompting another laugh from me.

Because honestly, why should I be afraid of these goons standing next to their limo, when they barely even reached my chin and they had nothing that could so much as scratch me, whereas I could literally pick the car up and chuck it down the street?

"And what if I decide that I don't want to do that?" I ask with a leisurely smile, but it's quickly wiped from my face because of the familiar croaking voice coming from inside the shadowy depths of the interior.

"If you decide to pursue such a foolish action, then my colleagues will be quite… _cross_ with you. You have shown the world that you are strong, Mr. McCole. But are you also immune to the deadly edge of a blade, hidden in the shadows of the night?"

 _'Yes, actually, but I'm not going to just tell you that. Let's wait and see the look on your face when your sudden but inevitable betrayal fails, because instead of cutting off my head, all you'll succeed in is breaking your sword on my skin.'_ I think to myself, though I let none of my thoughts show on my face as I approach the limo with slow, measured steps, acting the part of a cowed business man as I work my way inside the vehicle.

While I almost need to bend myself in half in order to fit through the door (God I miss Oliver and his easily accessible cabin), the unparalleled agility granted to me by the Hearth shaped Herb allows me to pull it off smoothly (I hope). As my eyes almost immediately adjust to the dimness of the interior, my eyes fall on the person who had spoken, and my suspicions are confirmed.

 _'Hello Madame Gao.'_ I think to myself, though I remain silent, my face not even showing a hint of surprise at seeing an old-shrivelled up lady in ratty clothing sitting in the back of an expensive looking limo, which causes her eyes to narrow in suspicion.

Not saying a further word, the evil old bat of a woman extends a gnarled hand, offering me a fancy looking phone which I take with only the barest of hesitation. Even if they filled it with explosives, all it would result in would be a ringing in my ear for a few minutes.

I almost expect the voice before I hear it.

"Ah, hello Mr. McCole, how nice of you to take my call." Alexandra Reid murmurs through the phone in a definitely amused tone of voice, though I notice the barely constrained hunger as well.

Time almost seems to slow down to a crawl as I start buying time, my craziest scheme yet starting to from in my mind.

"Well, from the looks of it, I didn't have much choice. Unfortunately I actually have an appointment, so-"

"-oh yes, of course. With Darren Cross of Pym Technologies, correct? Not to worry, my chauffeur is taking you there presently. That should give us enough time to talk."

The conversation is dim, merely background noise to the whirlwind that are my thoughts as I rapidly start weighing pros and cons, trying to calculate how my answers are going to end up impacting the future.

"Very well. Who am I talking with, actually?"

"Oh, I find names so… _constricting_ don't you think. I'd much rather talk with you on far more intriguing manners. Such as just what it is you have done to one Jeri Hogarth, or the various cripples in your employ that are now walking around, healthy as can be." she says in a voice that's clearly meant to intimidate me, but I'm only half listening as I keep trying to look at my impromptu scheme from all possible angles.

I _could_ pull it off. Maybe. With enormous amounts of luck. The problem was that the plan just reeked of 'this is so crazy, it just might work!' which didn't exactly fill me with trust, as such an exclamation is usually followed by a harrowing escape, only to meet the Final Big Bad.

And considering I'm on the phone with _Alexandra Reid_ , I'm really not interested in seeing who the narrative will shove forwards as the Final Big Bad in the case I go through with my crazy idea.

On the other hand (ha! Get it?) _if_ this works out… the benefits would be incalculable, just as the possible fall-out could be.

Screw it, new Step 12: pit the Hand against one of my greatest enemies.

"Oh, _that_? It's a miracle what a proper diet and regular visits to the Spa can do for you. No, with me it's rather the reverse of your opinion: I'm _very_ interested in names. I feel they can tell us so much about a person. Wouldn't you agree, _Alexandra_?"

Silence greets me from the other end of the phone as I see Madame Gao's eyes open wide in shock.

"How do you know that name?" the leader of the Hand asks in a seemingly calm voice, but her rage is large enough it almost feels like it's physically bursting from the phone in order to fill the limo.

"Allow me to relay to you what your associate told me in order to get me into this tin-can of a vehicle, and let's see if you can figure it out from there, hmm? You see, Madame Gao over here" (que shocked look and white knuckles gripping a cane with more strength than a decrepit old lady has any right to) "implicitly threatened to cut off my head if I didn't comply, and I honestly thought this was rather funny."

"And what, _exactly_ , makes the threat of decapitation so _funny_ to you?" Alexandra seethed through the phone.

And now, for the finale of my masterclass of acting:

"Because, my dear, _when you cut off one head, two more shall rise_." I hiss through the phone, and I can see the exact moment where Madame Gao realizes that she has made a grave mistake, trying to put pressure on me.

Though because of the wrong reasons of course.

It's silent on the other end of the line, so I continue talking, trying my hardest to sell the illusion, since I need the Hand to believe completely and utterly in the lie I'm spinning here.

"Your organization is old, Alexandra, older than mine. But we have _grown_. Both in number and with the times, which cannot be said of you and your associates. Oh you all hold great power, I will not be so crass as to deny that, but what of your subordinates? Just how assured are you that they are _truly_ loyal to you? You are mistaken if you think that we are powerless, Alexandra. The world has changed, and we with it and now it is ours, ripe for the taking. So skip these foolish attempts at intimidation as if I was some mere airheaded business man and tell me what it is you seek."

For a few moments more, there's only utter silence on her end of the line, before I can almost hear her literally grinding her teeth.

"The Rejuvenation serum you have. I want it."

"No."

Sheer rage blasts through the phone again, but to her credit, there's hardly a waver in Alexandra's voice, even though I just flat-out told her I would keep the one thing from her that had a chance of stopping her from dying without resorting to the Elixir.

"I'd be willing to pay-"

"No. The serum is not for sale."

"Listen here you-!"

" _No_ , you listen! For over a century we have looked up to the Hand because they did not need to fear Death. And we too strived to achieve that same level of power, and now, after _decades_ of sacrifice, you expect us to give it up to you?! Hydra will _never_ share the secrets it has uncovered about the human body!" I say in a harsh whisper, playing up my anger, hoping to bait the desperate Alexandra into making an error in judgement.

"You should take care of how you speak, Mr. McCole. Your organization may have found a way to conquer death, but _you_ can still die. What shall you do when I tear your secret society down around your ears until nothing but rubble remains? Will you remain as obstinate as you are now?" she hisses, and it takes all of my willpower to keep a smile off my face in order to not tip off Madame Gao, who is still staring at me with wide surprised eyes.

"Truly your long life has made you arrogant beyond your wisdom, Alexandra. Do you really think you have the power to bring us down? We have been hiding, _growing_ for seventy years, and we will not be cowed-"

"I have grown this organization for _seven hundred_ years! You think you can stand against me?! Insult _me_?! Your organization is no mighty Hydra, I have _seen_ such beasts before they became myth and legend and you are an _insult_ to the very name! Rats, that is what you are, filth, hiding in the shadows and licking their wounds! Tell me something, Mr. McCole, how long do you think your organization can remain in hiding, when _suddenly_ the world knows of its continued existence?"

Bad part of me doing this?

There's a chance of Alexandra getting the public to believe I am a Neo-Nazi.

The good part of me doing this?

The _actual_ Neo-Nazi's are gonna be _pissed_ , and they probably won't take to kindly to someone exposing their existence, even if they pointed at the wrong person.

Honestly, all I'm hoping for here is that the Hand and Hydra end up taking each other out, though I'm very well aware of how this might blow up in my face, and reflect on the company.

Still, with the alternative being the Hand constantly trying to lean on me to do their bidding, then I honestly prefer this. I absolutely refuse to go down the same road that Harold Meachum did about 7 years ago now, even if actually killing me will turn out to be a _lot_ harder, if not completely impossible. On the other hand, they know magic from Kun Lun, so they're probably capable of finding a way. 'Sides, I'm already too far gone to back off now, so I try to reply in the haughtiest, most arrogant voice I can manage.

"I'd like to see you try, Alexandra. But I should warn you: we are _everywhere_. We could be _everyone_. And if you manage to cut one of us down, then two more shall take their place."

And before she can respond, I crush the phone effortlessly in my large hand, and instead focus all of my attention on Madame Gao, who has yet to even move ever since she handed me the phone.

"Now then, I think this is my stop."

A quick glance showed me that we were nowhere _near_ Pym Technologies, but in a stroke of genius a few weeks back I had all Brain Boosted individuals spend an entire day on Google Street View, literally memorizing every road in New York.

We were now some of the very few people here that just _couldn't_ get lost.

I'd be fine.

Madame Gao gave me a long considering glance, before giving a slow nod.

"Yes. Indeed it is."

And with those words, she tapped the floor of the limo twice, which came to an abrupt halt. Not bothering to look back, I folded my way out of the car, and began running in the direction of Pym Technologies.

I had a deal to make. That uber-useful goo-gun just wasn't going to find its way into my arsenal on its own, and Darren Cross could do with a little boost to his intellect.

He'd be a lot easier to manipulate than Hank Pym into making Pym Particles for me, once he actually figures out how to make them that is.

But first…

"Hey, Sam?"

"Hey Michael, I hadn't expected you to call so soon? I thought you were on your way to a meeting with that Cross guy, at Pym's?"

"Yeah, about that… listen, I may have done something stupid…"

A sigh is my only answer, before he responds in a weary voice.

"Right, just _how_ stupid are we talking about this time? Your general 'let me just inject myself with these untested serums!' kinda stupid, or big time, like 'hey Sterns, lace my bones with metal, _even though that is physically impossible to do_!' kinda stupid?"

"You're never going to let the bone thing go, are you?"

"Not on your life. Now, what did you do?"

"… I might have pissed of an ancient shadow organization by pretending to be part of another ancient shadow organization, which means they'll either take out each other, or we end up dead."

"..."

"Sterns?"

" _HOW? HOW COULD YOU **POSSIBLY**_ _MAKE A WORSE DECISION THAN THE BONE THING?_ "

"Hey, it might work out!"

"Michael, I just want you to know, that…"

"What?"

"… when we're all dying slow, agonizing deaths, I'll be blaming you."

"Oh come on! It won't turn out _that_ bad!"

"Yeah, _definitely_ blaming you."

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Jim Shooter, Marvel's editor-in-chief in the '80s, bought the idea for Spider-Man's black costume from a fan for $220, and gave the fan a shot at writing the comic, though that didn't work out. The black costume was introduced as an alien "symbiote" and eventually became one of Spider-Man's most famous villains, Venom.


	19. Small Arms

**_The right to bear Small Arms_**

* * *

Though my meeting with Alexandra had left my brain spinning at highway speeds as it tried to come up with plots and plans and contingencies, my feet kept on carrying me towards my meeting with Pym Technologies, which would take place at Hogarth's office building, roughly two blocks away from where Madam Gao had kicked me out of the car.

I still had a job to do.

I promised Hogarth after all.

While I could easily outrun the cars in this urban traffic jam, running across the street like that could get me a ticket for jaywalking, even if the cops couldn't bill me for breaking the speed limit.

Now, getting a ticket for a few dozen bucks from the police in itself wasn't really something worth worrying about (I'm still getting used to the idea that I actually have money to spare now, it's so _awesome_!), but Stark was clearly itching to throw down with me if his press-statement was anything to go by, so the more squeaky clean I could present myself as, the less ammunition his army of lawyers had to try and drag my image down.

Then again, outrunning cars on the sidewalk wasn't likely to do me any favors from the general public either.

The solution?

Why, take to the rooftops, naturally.

It had taken me just two leisurely wall jumps in an alleyway in order to reach the roof of a six story building, and then I was off, powerful sprints throwing up gravel behind me as I dashed to the edge of the building, enormous muscles bulging as I jumped from rooftop to rooftop with ease, crossing tens of feet at a time.

 _God_ , I love parkour.

It took me all of five minutes before I saw Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz looming up across the street, so I put on even more speed and the moment I hit the edge of the building I was on, I jumped with enough force to crack the brickwork underneath my feet.

Oops.

Meh, who'd bother to come up there to check the floor anyways?

Any and all property damage was quickly pushed away from my mind however, as once again I was flying through the air with my stomach doing flips in my belly and my heart jack-hammering away in my throat as I realized that I had underestimated my strength.

' _One of these days I really should test my limits in a controlled environment. Figure out just what I can do_.' I thought wryly to myself as the ground came up to meet me with the speed of roughly 10 meters per second squared.

In other words: _fast_.

I landed on the pavement with an almighty crash, though thankfully this time I didn't do any damage to the surface, mostly because I skidded along a few steps, jogging to a halt.

Looking around, I saw that I had overshot my mark, as I had intended to land on the pavement in front of the big steps leading towards the large double doors. Instead, as I looked to my left, I saw a completely stunned security guard standing frozen next to the door as he stared at me with his mouth hanging wide open.

Looking in front of me, I realized that I had cleared the entirety of the main street, landing right before the entrance to the office building, close enough that I had ruffled the guard's clothing. Trying to play it cool as if I had intended to land this precisely (who knows, with how advanced my brain was, I just might have calculated this on a subconscious level) I turned back to the gobsmacked security guard with a raised eyebrow and a nonchalant smile.

"Nice weather we're having, right? Have a nice day." I said while nonchalantly walking through the doors as he kept staring at me like I was some kind of exotic creature.

And while it was a kind of accurate description (technically I _was_ the only one of my species after all) getting stared at so openly like that made me somewhat uncomfortable, so I continued my way through towards the enormous lobby with hurried strides (though normies probably would've called my speed a jog).

Surprisingly, Darren Cross was already inside waiting for me, standing alone at the desk flirting with the secretary, a practised smile on his face. While I had asked for him to come alone, I'd expected for him to bring a lot more people as his retinue anyways.

While he might be the CEO of Pym Technologies and what we were discussing wasn't as big like say a merger or something, I had very much doubted that his board of directors would just let him run off from San Francisco to New York on his own to go talk to the monstrous looking guy that had pissed of the Iron Man himself without them there present to get something out of it for themselves as well.

Apparently my promise to help him with recreating Pym Particles really put me in his good books if he decided to ditch them all and meet me in person as I had asked him to.

Which made completing my objective here a _lot_ easier for multiple reasons, one of the biggest being of course that I wasn't willing to share what I was planning to use to convince Cross with, with more people than absolutely necessary, and some unnamed background characters were definitely not considered necessary in my book.

Hypocritical of me to think that way considering my motivation when I was reborn, perhaps, but that was just the reality of the situation.

However, it was also beneficial because working with someone who wasn't hostile to you just went much more pleasantly, and subverting an individual is in some ways easier than subverting a group. Which meant it would be easier to sway Cross to my side now that he's here on his own, than if he was being held back by the doubts of other business men.

But the primary reason why I was so pleased that he had followed my politely worded request was because it revealed to me that Cross _really_ wanted the Pym Particles and was willing to forgo all the corporate bullshit just to get me working on it as fast as possible.

The man was obsessed, and considering the deals he was fishing for with his Yellowjacket suit, probably getting desperate for a working solution as well.

Good.

I can work with desperate.

All of this monologuing shot through my brain like lightning and not even a second had passed before I engulfed Cross' hand in my own enormous paw, placing the other one on his shoulder as I gave him a bright smile.

"Darren! How nice to finally meet you! I'm really looking forward to seeing just what amazing new technological marvels we can create by combining the efforts of Titan Solutions and Pym Technologies."

"Hello Mr. McCole, the pleasure is mine. And it's _Cross_ Technologies, actually. Or, it will be, once the paperwork is through that is." Cross replied with an eager grin, and it wasn't difficult for me to figure out why.

Under Cross' management, profits for Pym Technologies had risen (mostly because unlike Hank, Darren was willing to sell _everything_ to _everyone_ ) but innovation had stopped, leading many on the market to question how Pym Technologies would continue to remain profitable.

Meanwhile, Titan Solutions was apparently innovative enough that it got _Tony Stark_ of all people back in the game again, repurposing his Iron Man technology for the public good.

Yes, a partnership must have sounded like music to Cross' ears when Hogarth managed to get a hold of him.

"Oho, _Cross_ Technologies, is it? Congratulations Darren, it seems as if you continue to rise up in the world." I said smoothly, plying him with honeyed words as I led him further inside Jeri's headquarters.

Meanwhile, I kept trying to remember whether he moved as openly as he did against Hank Pym this early in the "canon" timeline. No, right? I'm pretty sure that he only rebranded the company during the events of Ant-Man, which would be three years from now. My memory was through the roof ever since Sterns upgraded my brain, but even so it had been well over twenty years since I had been born in this universe, and Marvel Studios had been going at it for a decade before I somehow ended up switching universes, meaning that little details were getting increasingly difficult to recall.

 _'Holy shit, it's been **thirty** years since I first saw Iron Man!'_

I was shaken from my sudden realization when my question answered itself as Cross replied in a proud voice, walking with me to the elevator, basking in the awed looks that Jeri's staff were sending us (or mostly _me_ , actually, but I doubt someone like Cross would've liked anyone bursting his bubble by telling him that).

"Well, seeing your company burst onto the scene like it did, challenging _Stark_ of all people, especially after what happened to Hammer… well, it made me realize something." Cross explained, as I pressed the button for the elevator, before turning back to him, being greeted by a secretive smile on his face that was probably meant to convey that the two of us were in league somehow, but instead just ended up looking like he had a nervous tic.

"There's no need to keep bowing down to the older generation. They are just that: _old_. Obsolete, even. The future is now, and if it is to be _ours_ then it needs to be shaped by _us_ as well, not by fossils that think they know better than us." He said with a wink, and it took every bit of my monumental control not to just burst out in laughter at his pathetic attempt to sound sage and wise, instead giving a grave nod in agreement.

 _'God, not taking Jessica with me might just be the smartest move I've ever made. She'd either laugh in his face, or throw him out the window within the first five minutes._ '

Thankfully, I was saved by any further "advice" as the elevator finally arrived, and from there it was a short trip to the conference room Hogarth had set aside for my use. While somewhat bland (though that might just be my personal distaste for everything corporate shining through) it was very spacious and offered a nice view on the impressive skyline of New York, Stark Tower jutting towards the heavens as a glittering monument of glass and steel to one man's ego, and I found myself standing in front of the full-length windows with my hands clasped behind my back.

Spotting movement from my side, I half turned to find Cross standing there with a hungry smile on his face and offering me a glass of whiskey, holding one himself as well, taken from the small drink cabinet that had been sitting in one of the corners of the room.

While I did not care much for the taste (not to mention any lack of effect it would have on me anyways) it would be a simple courtesy to accept the drink, as refusing it would only serve to wound Cross' easily bruised pride, and things would just go so much easier if he was working for me willingly, if unknowingly.

Clinking our glasses together (me using every ounce of control I had to not smash both of them apart with just a fraction of my superstrength) I gave him the most gleaming, enthusiastic smile I could manage.

And considering the lengths I'm willing to go to in order to achieve omnipotence, talking business with a weasel like Cross is something that I can manage just fine, so the smile came out big and appearing genuine.

"Cheers!"

"To good business!" Cross said in return, and after a quick gulp of the whiskey (nope, still tasted like gasoline to me, just like it always had in both my lives), we sat down at the large table, Cross shifting in his chair in a (failed) attempt to look important.

 _'Right, time to execute Step 13: get Darren Cross to release his research into Pym Particles to me. For fuck's sake, Step **13**?! I should've been omnipotent already!'_

"So-"

"So how far are you in recreating the Pym Particles?" I cut in, causing Cross to suddenly become very still as he gives me a wide-eyed look that was somewhat reminiscent of a deer looking at oncoming headlights.

Coming on this strong in such a blunt manner was risky, yes, but my advanced brain had kept on analysing Cross and his mannerisms and micro-expressions from the moment I entered the building, and I soon realized that my earlier assessment was correct.

Darren Cross was getting desperate.

Not desperate enough to turn a co-worker into goo in the restroom, but he was steadily getting there.

So, keep him on the back foot with sudden questions that show that I know more than should be possible, while simultaneously drawing him in with promises of power and prestige.

"What do you know about the Pym Particles?" Cross asks wearily after a few tense moments, drawing a half smile from me.

 _'Countering a question with a question, making sure that you neither confirm nor deny. Well, no-one ever said you were dumb. Completely bat-shit, sure, but not dumb.'_

"I know that you think the Ant-Man is real. I know that you think he was using Pym Particles. And I know that you've trying to replicate it. The keyword here being _trying_. And that's where I come in."

"Really? In what way?" Cross asks in response, and while his tone and answer are guarded, my brain picks up the way he leans slightly forwards, the way his eyes light up as he studies me intently, the way one hand subconsciously starts tugging on one of his cufflinks.

I got him interested.

"Darren, within Titan Solutions I have a think tank made up of scientists with each and every single one of them being on par with Tony Stark, and you've _seen_ what Dr. Samuel Sterns is capable of. The man is as smart as _two_ Hank Pym's put together!" I boasted, not caring how (in)accurate my statements were, as long as they could draw Cross in.

"They'll have the Pym Particles cracked within the year, at the very latest!"

Cross chuckles and shakes his head, but I can see that this is the business man in him, wary of committing to any kind of deal before he's seen it from every possible angle and extracted every last bit of advantage he can get from it.

But he fails to hide the scientist within him from my keen eyes, and I can tell that he _knows_ I can make good on my promise of delivering him fully functional Pym Particles.

And he wants them _bad_.

"So… what? What's your plan here? That you ask and I just _give_ your scientists my research on the Pym Particles? Just like that?" he asks with a sarcastic tone and a demeaning chuckle at the ridiculousness of my proposal.

"Yes." I reply bluntly, taking his business persona off guard by not playing by the rules of the corporate game by showing my motives so openly.

"What do I get in return for that? For that matter, what do _you_ get in return for that?" Cross blurts out, as the scientist within him starts to win from the flat-footed businessman.

"Well, what _I_ get out of this is simple. I get the Pym Particle formula."

"What good is it to you? You don't have the facilities to mass-produce any tech with it yourself, and there's not a chance in hell that I'll enter into a deal that would allow you to sell as a competitor with _my_ designs." Cross says with narrowed eyes, but I just smile in response.

"And you're absolutely correct, Darren, as usual of course. I don't have the means to market my own tech with it, and you're perfectly within your rights to not want me to sell the tech separately from yours, you're absolutely right. Fortunately, that won't be a problem!" I say with a happy grin and a clap of my hands (which due to their size and my strength, produces a sound much like a gunshot, making Cross jerk in his chair in surprise).

"It won't?" the CEO asks, taken off guard by the strange way this conversation is going.

"Nope! I don't plan on marketing the Pym Particles _at all_. Feel free to draw up a deal where you can sue me for everything that I have if I end up selling the stuff, I don't care."

"If you're not going to sell it, then why do you want it?" Cross asks, sounding genuinely confused at my motives.

"Mostly academic interests, partly the personal pride I would get from reverse engineering one of Hank Pym's greatest masterpieces. Honestly, I think that the Pym Particles can turn out very useful for Titan Solutions, both in our research and in optimizing our admittedly small facilities, but I can assure you Darren, I don't want it for economic purposes."

He looks at me disbelievingly, but I just stare back at him with an open smile on my face, betraying none of my actual motives. After a quick sip of his whiskey in order to centre himself, Cross nervously wets his lips, before he glances back at me again and I can tell that he's bothered by the fact that he doesn't know where I'm going with all this.

"Alright, say that I believe you… what's in it for me?"

"You mean _other_ than the one thing you have been endlessly pursuing ever since you started working under Pym when you were barely in your twenties?" I ask coolly, making my eyes flare up as the temperature inside the conference room quickly starts to rise, curbing his greed by reminding him subtly just _who_ it is he's dealing with.

And what I'm capable of.

"Right. Besides that." Cross says with a nervous swallow.

"Think about it Darren. _Really_ think about it. You said to me that we don't have to bow down to the older generation, so why are you planning on doing just that with the Pym Particles?" I ask, my eyes intent as I start twisting the man in front of me in order for him to suit my needs.

"W-what do you mean?" he asks in confusion, and I lean forwards, not letting up the pressure, forcing him to look me in my burning eyes.

"Tony Stark pulls Stark Industries from the weapons market and then in the same year reveals that he has developed new technology _decades_ ahead of the rest of the world, and what does he do with it? He builds a _suit_. But instead of following in his footsteps, I broke _free_. I refused to follow the lead of a man like Stark and instead of parading out in armour made of gold so I can punch bad guys in the face as if I'm living out some childhood fantasy, I started up Titan Solutions. Right now, the face of energy and motorization is changing as we speak thanks to me, and medicine is about to go through a revolution of unrivalled proportions. Instead of finding increasingly ridiculous ways to strap missiles to myself, I am instead standing on the cusp of making disease a notion of the past. I've forged my own path, Darren. Why aren't you trying to do the same?" I lie passionately, trying my best to get through to the thoughtful looking Cross.

"I think I'm doing just fine in the "breaking free" department, thank you. In a few months, Pym Technologies will be replaced by Cross-"

"Bah, just slapping a new label on your mentor's company is nothing more than a first step, a cosmetic change. But Hank Pym still has his claws in you, even if you can't see it." I wave away his rebuttal, and I can see anger flare in his eyes.

"Hank Pym is _nothing_ -"

"Tell me, what did he do with the Pym Particles?" I ask calmly, completely at odds with the incensed Cross as I lean back in my chair with a disinterested look on his face.

I can tell that my sudden question takes him off guard, and he takes a few moments to calm down again before he answers.

"Well, _officially_ it was all purely theoretical of course. A new field of study, an extremely fascinating field, but with little practical application. They could not be created, much less used in any useful capacity."

"And _unofficially_?" I press as I raise an eyebrow.

"Well… there were these rumours. Tall tales, Hank would say. About an… about the Ant-Man."

"What he _did_ , Darren, is exactly the same thing that Tony did. They revolutionized science as we know it, and then they built a suit with it. They ignored humanity's struggles, our ever-dwindling resources, our rising population numbers, our increasingly failing environment, and instead they made _TOYS_!" I roar the last word, slamming my palm flat down on the metallic table, leaving a glowing imprint in the glossy material, making Cross nearly jump out of his chair in surprise.

"And now _you_ are seeking Pym's technology for yourself, thinking that you've freed yourself from your mentor's influence just because you're going to get a new logo for your company. All the while _blind_ to the fact that you're still following him like a lost puppy! Tony Stark made a suit! Hank Pym made a suit! And what are _you_ planning on making, Darren Cross?" I growl out as I lean forwards, seeing his eyes widen in shock as I reveal just a little bit more of my knowledge.

"How… That project is strictly confidential!" Cross blurts out, but he fails to summon any heat in his accusation as I keep staring at him, the thunderous expression on my face making him shrink back a little in his leather seat.

"What. Are. You. Going. To. _Do_?" I thunder clearly, and I have to hold back a snort as I can see his eyes flit around the room, looking at everything but me.

"Make a suit…" he mumbles, and now I know that he's in the right mental state for me to try and twist him to my needs, just like I had done with Killmonger.

Cross was a businessman (and a pretty good one too, actually) so by all rights me revealing knowledge about secret projects within his building should ring all kinds of alarm bells about corporate espionage, especially considering the kind of suspicion that was subtly directed towards Titan Solutions for suddenly coming up with Arc Reactors of its own so shortly after Tony had made the technology viable, in contrast to the big reactor that never did any better than just breaking even.

But his hunger for the Pym Particles, as well as the way that I had been directing our meeting, made that his business savvy had been thrown for a loop, leaving me to not deal with the CEO of Cross Technologies, but just another scientist, desperate for the next great scientific advancement of the century.

Standing up from my chair, I make my way towards him with slow measured steps, coming to a halt behind the man, one hand nonchalantly in my pocket, the other resting assuringly on his shoulder. Meanwhile I keep talking.

"Making a suit. Can't you see it, Darren? You're on this great quest to unravel what can just turn out to be the most versatile technology humanity has discovered so far, the same technology your mentor has so selfishly hidden from the world for decades. But instead of breaking free from your mentor, you're ending up on the same path as him!"

Leaning down a bit, I make sure that he looks me in the eyes before I continue feeding him with what _he_ wants to hear, and what _I_ want him to hear.

"Tell me something, Darren. How long have you asked Hank Pym, your mentor, the man you could even consider a _father_ , to share his greatest creation with his protégé, the one person he should be able to trust? How long have you _begged_ to be told about the Pym Particles?"

" _Decades_ …" he whispers, and I can see anger and hate start to build within him.

Perfect.

"Decades…" I repeat in a thoughtful tone, before I continue.

"And in all that time, he has been hoarding his greatest creation for himself, as selfishly as a dragon with his treasure hoard. Refusing to share the Particles with humanity, refusing to try and make the world a better place. So, why don't you?"

His head whips around to stare at me in confusion, and I give him a sly grin as I spread my arms wide in a gesture meant to convey endless possibilities.

"Think about it Darren! What better way to completely break free from Pym, to show him that you no longer follow his ridiculous orders, that you now stand _above_ him, than taking the one thing he has always kept to himself, that he has kept from _you_ , and being the one to share it with the entire world! What good will making a suit do for you? Show you that you can mimic your mentor, that you can follow his lead? If you truly want to break free, Darren, then you need to do the _opposite_!"

I can see that the idea that sticking it to Pym resonates with him by the hunger in his eyes, so I go in for the final strike, leaning forwards a bit as I do.

"Think of the _profits_. Just take shipping, for example. If you were to shrink every container in the New York harbour, and enlarge the largest cargo ship we have, then you could fit all of New York's trade in a single ship. And combine it with technology based on my Blue Box, and that ship could take that cargo all over the world without having to stop for fuel even once! Do you have any idea just how many people are willing to pay us _billions_ if we were to market something like that? And that's just shipping Darren! The same principle could be applied to _every_ sector there is! We could turn Pym Particles into a common commodity, and all Hank Pym can do is tear out his hair in despair as he watches the treasure he has spent so long hoarding for himself is shared with the entire world, by _you_!"

As his brain goes through the calculations to quickly figure out just how much he could make by applying the Pym Particles that way, I can tell that I have him now.

Like I said, Cross is as much a business man as he is a scientist. And while the military sector in America is probably the richest sector in the entire world (roughly four times as much money is spent by the Government on it than the number two, China), it absolutely pales in comparison to the combined amount of spending in _every_ other sector, such as transportation and communication, on a _global scale_. And Cross, being a business man, quickly reached the same conclusion.

Sure, selling to military contractors would result in a nice fat cheque, but what they could offer him was pocket change compared to what he could make if he started to market Pym Particles-based technology on a worldwide scale.

And now, for the cherry on top…

"Besides, you've already rebranded Pym Technologies to _Cross_ Technologies. What's to stop you from marketing _Cross_ Particles as well? Pym kept his own Particles a secret for decades, he'll either look like a madman or the greatest asshole in modern history if he suddenly calls you out on it because he had been sitting on the same tech for decades and yet it never saw the light of day. Think about the headlines here, Darren: young CEO of Cross Technologies markets Cross Particles, set to be the greatest invention in the history of humanity. Obsolete old man Hank Pym left in the dust."

The answering grin is all the answer I need.

Seems like Titan Solutions is going to end up in a partnership with Cross Technologies.

* * *

"So how did the meeting go?" Jeri Hogarth asks me the moment I stepped into her office.

After Cross and I had hashed out some more details for a possible partnership between our companies, I had escorted him to the lobby of the building, after which I made it back to Hogarth's floor, as I had promised her I would show her the kind of tech me and the boys thought she could market once my meeting with Cross Technologies was finished.

"Pretty well honestly. Cross is heading back to San Francisco this evening, he has already phoned ahead, so my people should get a call from his people at any moment now." I reply as I sit down in the extra-large chair with a reinforced frame which supports my body like a smooth handmade velvet glove, a little gift from Hogarth as thanks for the Rejuvenation serum.

"And considering that _I_ am 'your people' that means that for the foreseeable future I can expect random phone calls in the middle of the night, correct?"

"If it's any consolation, me and my team have been trying to develop a drug that cuts down on the amount of sleep people need?"

My peace offering is rejected with a disinterested snort as Jeri Hogarth keeps typing away on her computer, looking at me from the corner of her eyes (now completely without wrinkles, thanks to yours truly).

"Your idea of thanking me is making me sleep even _less_. No thanks, I'll pass. I'll take whatever else you got though, because Stark, or should I say Potts, isn't letting up."

Taking note of the seriousness in her voice, I sit a bit straighter, our banter forgotten.

"Are we going to be in trouble?"

"From a legal standpoint? No. Not yet, at least. Stark Industries' lawyers are circling us like sharks, testing the waters, but none of them are willing to make the first move. For all that Stark is content in blowing his money on the most idiotic of things like it's nothing, Potts won't tolerate her company bleeding money without getting anything in return, so they aren't ready to take us to court for a long _expensive_ battle while they're still scrambling for something that they can use to nail us to the wall with."

"Then what's the issue?"

"We lost Honda."

"What?! How?! More importantly, why?! Hachigō has to know that if he backs out of our deal his competitors will gladly take his place!"

"Apparently, Miss Potts is very close to both him and his family and they have offered him alternatives."

I lean back in my chair in shock as I look at the stern faced lawyer in front of me, disbelief clear on my face.

"Stark is selling his Arc Reactor?"

Relief floods me as Jeri shakes her head in the negative. Right now, my Blue Box deals were my greatest source of revenue, due to the medical side of my company still having to face years of FDA-testing before it became profitable. Outdoing Stark economically had never been the point of Titan Solutions, but if Tony were to sell his Arc Reactors, it would mean a catastrophic hit to my company, and consequently the safety of my allies.

"No, not the tech. Potts has promised Hachigō that Stark himself will make him one engine per branch that Honda is involved in, to the best of his abilities. Depending on how Hachigō can swing the deal, it means that Tony Stark will be personally designing up to twelve different engines for the company. That, combined with his closeness to Miss Potts, has convinced him to back out."

I rub my face with a sigh as once again I reflect that making plans is all fun and games, but that none survive first contact with the enemy. To me, all of these people used to be actors, with their set lines to say and actions to perform.

But now, they are living, breathing, _thinking_ people with a will of their own, and it's nearly impossible for me to predict how they'll react to _me_ , since my presence here is obviously not part of my meta-knowledge.

However, even as I contemplate this, I can see Jeri give a smug little smile at her computer screen, and I can't help the curiosity that wells up inside me at the uncommon sight.

"What the hell got you so happy?"

Turning to look at me fully, Jeri leans forwards a bit, placing her arms on her desk and folding her slender hands together, the perfect picture of poised calm.

"Ford just doubled its offer on the condition that they also get the deal we had with Honda."

"But we made that deal with Honda specifically because they are involved in so many different branches of motor racing, way more than Ford is? Why do they want that deal as well if their company isn't geared for it?"

"They're thinking of expanding their interests. According to them, working with the level of tech that Titan Solutions can provide will give them the final push they need to grow into various other branches of the automotive industry. Their words, not mine."

"Meaning?"

Sure, it would be a matter of mere moments for my boosted brain to figure out their motivations myself, but after the meeting with Cross I had just had, it was nice to just kick back and let someone else do the thinking and explaining for once.

"They're shitting their pants, absolutely terrified of falling behind in the energy arms-race you have unleashed, and are desperate to make the most of the deals we are willing to make now while we're still negotiating as a small, young company, meaning from a position of relative weakness. Congratulations, Mr. McCole. You just turned losing one of your greatest backers into a multi-billion dollar deal." Jeri smiles, drawing a scoff from me.

"I hardly had anything to do with it, its Ford's paranoia that will make us the big bucks."

"That would be the Army, actually."

"They came through?"

"They did. Grudgingly of course, and they won't stop pestering me to try and make you reconsider your 'no weapons' policy, but considering that Tony Stark isn't working with them anymore, they hardly have any choice but to come to us now for their toys. The way we can revolutionize their vehicles, especially that "Tumbler" you showed me, almost has them begging on their knees, and I'm pretty sure that we made the EOD branch cry tears of joy when we sent them the specs of your new leather armour."

"If all that's true, then why are you so desperate for more gear to market?"

"Because making deals with big energy and car companies and the army is all well and good, but it's nothing more than background noise for the general populace. It's something they might skim over in the financial pages in their newspaper, but it's hardly something that'll stay on their thoughts throughout the day. Meanwhile, by the time it's 2014, roughly 6 _million_ people will be travelling in Tony Stark's brand new subway cars _every day_. We need something to counteract such a massive public presence or nobody will even bother to care when Stark Industries tries to fight us behind closed doors."

She made a lot of sense of course, though the high numbers took me off guard for a moment.

"Right, right, of course." I say, taking a see through rectangle of glass from my pocket, about the size of my hand, placing it flat on Jeri's desk.

As I do, a holographic screen fills the glass, several haptic buttons appearing off to the side, functioning as an interface. Ignoring Jeri's wide-eyed look, I flick my wrist, making the holographic screen suddenly shoot upwards, hovering roughly a foot above the glass. A gesture of both my hands (a pulling motion away from each other) makes the holographic 3D model expand suddenly until it's about as large as Hogarth's desk, showing a grid of files and maps.

"Right, me and the guys thought up a lot of stuff which we thought you might find useful, like flying cars-"

"Michael."

Jeri's steel clad voice cuts through my words with the razor edge of a Vibranium blade, and I find myself blinking as I look at the lawyer's intense gaze in surprise.

"Yeah?"

"What is _this_?"

"This? It's just a bit of tech we developed for day to day use. The glass sheet is easy to make and pretty cheap too. Getting the wiring small enough was a bit of a challenge, but Mason figured it out after a couple of hours. The holographic interface was just to make it easier to use. Why?"

"Why?! Michael do you even know what you have there?!"

Despite my advanced brain, I still find myself thrown for a loop, as I look from the wide-eyed Hogarth to the haptic interface and back to Hogarth again, raising my eyebrow in a question.

"It's just a hologram Jeri… it's not that special?" I hesitantly venture, making Hogarth's nostrils flare in indignation.

"Not that _special_?! Not that… How on Earth can you be so smart and yet still be dumb!?"

"Hey that's not very nice-"

"Holograms aren't just 'not that special' Michael! I _know_ that you and your bunch of science friends are comfortable with Stark level tech, but you need to get this through that massive skull of yours: the rest of the world _isn't_!" Hogarth hisses at me, deflating a bit as she considers what she just said.

"Or well, most of the world anyways. Who knows what that Wakanda has, the rumours you hear about that place…"

Meanwhile I'm still coming to grips with the realization that Hogarth just dumped on me. I had been so focused on the major players on Earth, being in contact with advanced tech on a daily basis, that I had completely forgotten that the rest of the world was still at the same tech level as my old world had been.

Some of the stuff that I use on a daily basis was still considered fancy sci-fi to the rest of the world.

 _'When I was brainstorming with Phineas, I was using holographic interfaces, while he had a glove on that gave him pseudo-telekinesis, and both of us thought those things so mundane that neither of our advanced brains even registered them as special or marketable.'_

"Just think about this, Michael, _really_ think! The way we could revolutionize communications, advertisements, instructions, hell even _video-games_! This technology is applicable to literally everything we now use that has an interface!"

All I can do is nod at Jeri's rant (I've noticed she's become a lot more animated now that she's thirty years younger), all the while kicking myself for forgetting the KISS principle: Keep It Simple, Stupid. Of course my hyper-advanced brain would come up with hyper-advanced solutions, while the simpler option was staring me right in the face.

"Michael. You are going to describe to me _every single thing_ that you guys use in that workshop of yours. And don't you _dare_ leave anything out, you understand?"

Giving her a determined nod, I start recalling every piece of equipment that's currently inside the warehouse, to the mountain of tools Sterns insists are necessary for his endless upkeep of his beloved Oliver, to the A/C unit that Burstein had installed to both deal with the temperature, as well to completely neutralize the smells coming from his leather-working production area.

Time to sell my inventions and make _everyone_ super.

"Right, we got this autodoc in the labs for quick response, if someone messes up a chemical reaction or something, you know? But I think that with a carbonfiber frame and a body of inflatable vinyl…"

* * *

I made my way back towards the workshop feeling pretty damned pleased with myself.

While Darren's legal team had to first hash out all the boring details with my legal team, I wasn't really worried about that, considering that my legal team had a revitalized Jeri Hogarth at its head.

Me and Jeri had spent well over three hours walking through the tools that were used in my workshop, trying to come up with as many possible uses and ways to market them as we could, from altering our cheap 3D-printer to be able to mass-produce metals, ceramics, glass, and plastics, to the repurposing the gasmasks we occasionally used to also fit radio and a HUD, while being treated so it's as strong as Kevlar, while still being as thin as plastic.

As I was just walking across the sidewalk like your ordinary baseline humie, I could spot several of my tails again, amusement welling up inside me as I considered taking to the rooftops once more.

It's notoriously hard to shadow a guy if he makes jumps as high as several stories, and outruns cars.

Gonna need _a lot_ of crossfit before you can keep up with that kind of athleticism.

There were the obligatory black vans of course, following me several dozen feet behind in a neat column, standing out like a sore thumb. That means that they are the kind of spies that people know exist, so probably CIA. The guy that has been walking at a constant 15 feet behind me is subtler, but his focus is obvious, indicating inexperience in dealing with non-baseline humans and their superior senses. NSA perhaps? One of the myriad of CIA special agent programs, like the Bourne and Mission Impossible movies told us about? _Maybe_ FBI, but from what little I know about those guys, I figure that their preferred method is just bull rushing a target using a bunch of people in suits and shades, flashing their fancy badges.

Though that might just be my Hollywood enforced misconception speaking.

I didn't spot any tails that I could attribute to S.H.I.E.L.D., which meant that they either sent someone good enough that I couldn't spot them, or they didn't bother to put a tail on me at all. Considering the extensive monitoring equipment the agency had access to (in the words of Coulson "everything that has a camera") as well as the top-tier humans they employ, both are entirely possible.

No, what worries me is that I can't spot any tails that might be from the Hand.

Then again, they wouldn't really be proper ninja's if they could be spotted.

Given that they were a secret organization, deeply imbedded in both the upper elechons of New York society as well as its criminal underbelly (basically the same thing really) I had no idea how quickly they could mobilize, though I was hedging towards the idea that they'd probably need a couple of days to gather enough men for a proper strike.

Then again, they were a hidden society of ninja's, the quintessential assassins, meaning that they didn't really need to gather enough men; they just needed _one_ , in the right place at the right time.

Reaching the workshop I decide to put the thoughts of ninja's out of my mind for now, throwing a cheeky wave over my shoulder at the column of black SUV's behind me as I made my way inside-

"GET A HOLD OF IT!"

"CAREFUL!"

"WHERE IS IT?! WHERE IS IT!? OH GOD I CAN'T SEE IT!"

"AAARGH! IT BIT ME! GET ME SOME ANITSCEPTIC, **NOW**!"

"WHERE THE HELL IS THE FIRE EXTUINGISHER?!"

-only to walk into absolute pandemonium.

There were a lot of people shouting at the top of their lungs, others were running around like headless chickens, the sound of ( _expensive_ ) things falling and shattering kept ringing out, while I could spot at least three small fires scattered throughout the workshop.

Even as I stared completely frozen at the sight of chaos in front of me, I could hear crashes coming from the set of offices to my right, and I turned just in time to see Melvin Potter run straight through the old brickwork walls, showering the both of us in dust and mortar.

Appearing completely unbothered by the fact that he just destroyed a wall with just his body, the blacksmith simply lit up when he saw me standing there, straightening up and giving a happy wave, a big grin on his innocent face.

"Hi there Mr. McCole! Glad to see you're back!"

"Melvin… what the _hell_ is going on?"

"Oh, Mr. Noah did an experiment, and it escaped!" was the answer, delivered as cheerfully as if he just said that the world had just outlawed taxes.

"… an experiment?"

"Yeah!" and with that he pointed behind him, and as I leaned a bit to the side to look around his broad frame I could see a black blur shoot low across the floor of the workshop, one of the workers that Toomes had put me in contact with chasing after it.

In his haste however, the man (now working security for my company) failed to see a colleague coming up from the other side, hands spread out in order to catch the blur as it approached him. Whatever the hell it was, it proved too fast for him though, and his hands closed on empty air, the blur flitting in between his legs. The man that had been in pursuit proved to be less nimble however and I could see their eyes widening in shock moments before they crashed into each other.

Now, while in any other situation this might've lead to some innocent slapstick and a bit of embarrassment, all of the people that I had put in the security department of my company had been upgraded with both the supersoldier serum, as well as the Luke Cage treatment.

Meaning that instead of tumbling down in an heap of limbs, the first guy slammed into the second one with an almighty crash much like a car collision would produce, lifting his colleague straight off the ground, and inadvertently running/falling forwards, shoulder checking the other man straight _into_ the wall of my building.

And nearly clear through it as well.

"STEP ASIDE! MAKE WAY!"

The harried sound of Sterns' voice dashed all hopes I had of cooler heads prevailing over the chaos as I saw my friend hurrying forwards above the din of the battlefield of upturned desks and small fires on all six of his metal legs.

A few of them shot forwards, but once more the devious blur (and just what the _hell_ had Burstein created?!) proved to fast for its pursuers, and _somehow_ Sterns metal arms got caught up in each other and the egghead fell to earth with an undignified yelp.

Growling deep in my chest at the chaos that had taken over _my_ workshop, I ran forwards, ducking and weaving around the scattered furniture and panicked people with more grace than the world's greatest dancers and athletes, the cat-like reflexes the Heartshaped Herb granted me really paying off now.

Vaulting over a desk covered in broken beakers and ruined papers with the tips of my fingers just barely brushing the wood, my feet hit the ground smoothly, immediately propelling me to the right and down, my hand shooting out quick as lightning, catching the blur by the… _tail_?

Completely nonplussed, I shifted my grip on whatever creature Burstein had created, placing my enormous hands on its torso, nearly circling it completely. Making sure that my grip was secure (the thing struggled like a cat on a mix of steroids and heroine, and proved almost a slippery as an eel) I straightened up, lifting up the being in front of my face.

And I was greeted by _teeth_.

Lots and lots of teeth, each one about as large as the pinkie finger on a normie would be.

"Ah, Michael (*huff*), good to see you captured Experiment 626 (*huff huff*)."

Slowly turning my head from the creature to the sweating form of Burstein, there's only one thing that I can think of to say.

"Burstein… what the _hell_?!"

 _'I really need to put up some safety rules here, or mad science will kill us all before the Chitauri even have a chance to get here.'_

Wringing his hands, the scientist looks just a tad guilty at me, as around us people are giving out relieved sighs as they start helping each other up from the floor (or out of the walls, in one case), starting to put the place back in order again.

"Well… it's just that, _you_ came up with the haptic interfaces, then _Sam_ came up with the motion-responsive tech and then _Phineas_ made that pseudo-telekinetic gauntlet of his and… well, I just wanted to make something as well. And well, remember when we watched Jurassic Park on movie night a couple of weeks back…" Burstein says haltingly, wincing a bit as next to us, one of the workers picks up a stack of papers, only to have them spontaneously combust in her hands due to the mix of spilled chemicals everywhere.

Thankfully, she had been one of the amputees that Toomes had sent me, and due to being healed with Extremis she was unharmed by the sudden fireball, though she sent Noah a _very_ annoyed look at her now singed shirt, the scientist giving a nervous smile in response.

Ignoring the by play for now, my mind snags on a little thing that the scientist had mentioned.

 _'Jurassic Park?'_

Mechanically turning to look at the creature that I was holding an arms-length away from me (it was still squirming and snapping its multitude of teeth) I actually take the time to examine it properly.

The long tail.

The big snout.

The powerful hind legs.

The _teeth_.

"Noah?" I say, my voice completely flat and void of any emotion as I keep my eyes on the creature in my arms, which has _finally_ accepted that escape is no longer an option, calming down a bit as it settles for glaring at me instead (which proves about as effective as gnashing on my unbreakable skin had been).

"Yes Michael?" the scientist replies in a despondent voice, his head hanging low as he dreads the question that he knows is coming.

"Why the hell am I holding a T-Rex?"

"Ah, well, like I said you guys were coming up with all this cool stuff, and we've pretty much perfected my enhancing treatment, especially with the help of Mr. Potter, so I wanted to start on a new project…" the scientist rambles.

My mind at this point is in an unnatural calm state as I look at the dog-sized dinosaur in my hands, the shock having proven too much and causing me to just run fully on auto-pilot right now.

"I see. You mean to tell me that in the span of two weeks, you brought back a species that had been extinct for 65 _million_ years?"

Shuffling his feet a bit, I could see Burstein place his hands in his pockets only to take them out immediately again, wringing them nervously.

"Well, not exactly. I've been working on this ever since you and Sam upgraded my brain. It's just that the last two weeks I've been putting my research into practice."

"So _that_ was what was inside your super-secret room that none of us were allowed to enter?"

"Yeah, some of the equipment there like the Incubation Chamber is really delicate, and I also figured that it would immediately spoil the surprise of what I was trying to do."

"Creating a dinosaur." I state flatly, as if to convince myself that, yes, this is in fact, real.

Meanwhile, the T-Rex in question has become bored from not setting me on fire by the power of its glare alone, and has begun squirming again, its yellow eyes flitting around the workshop as it seems to contemplate causing havoc and mayhem once more.

"Well… she's not a _dinosaur_ in the strictest sense. As you know, getting DNA from dinosaur remains is impossible, as DNA doesn't last more than 5 million years, but traces of saurian DNA can still be found in the dormant parts of the genetic structure of their descendants. Considering that birds genetically speaking _are_ dinosaurs I just sort of… back-tracked, using extensive knowledge of palaeontology and genetics to guide me, with the Saltwater Crocodile as a rough baseline."

"So… what you're telling me… is that I'm basically holding a chicken with teeth?"

"An ostrich actually. Also, uhm, I don't really know how to say this…"

"Noah. What the hell did you do?" I ask dangerously, before the T-Rex ostrich in my hands suddenly locks eyes with me, and somehow I can tell that it's confused about something, before it-

 _FWOOSH!_

-before it hiccups, spouting a great gout of flame straight into my face. As I blink the sudden spots away, I'm greeted by the smuggest look I've ever seen a reptile make, only now noticing the subtle glow on its chest, reminding me somewhat of the Deathwing dragon from that World of Warcraft game that became incredibly popular a couple of years back.

The reason I hadn't even noticed its high body temperature was because I was burning so hot that outside heat barely even registered to me anymore.

"Noah. What. Did. You. **_DO_**?" I growl out, the baby T-Rex's tail lazily wagging back and forth as it amuses itself with chasing a speck of burned up paper floating around its head.

"… I uhh, _may_ have decided that, since I was busy with coding its genetic structure, I uhh, you know, might as well go a little crazy. But you need to realize Michael, this was just an experiment, I never expected it to actually _work_!"

"Noah…"

"Noah!"

"You're not going to like this…"

"I'm _already_ not liking this, now tell me whether or not you've done what I think you've done!"

"… well, I enhanced her with Extremis-"

"Shit!"

"-and the Brain Booster as well."

"SHIT!"

In the silence following my sudden outburst, I can hear the door to the workshop open and close again, boots walking a few steps as a voice rings out.

"Michael! I found where that Radcliffe guy of yours is…. Whoa…" I hear the familiar voice trail off, the sounds of her feet coming to a dead stop, and looking over my shoulder, I can see Jessica looking around the chaos with a confused look on her face.

"Hey guys, what the hell happened here? Looks like a bomb went off or something…"

She trails off in stunned silence however, as her eyes land on the T-Rex dangling in my hands, happily chewing away on my thumb, before the little monster notices Jessica as well, letting go of my digit in order to tilt her head at the woman much like a curious puppy would.

You know, if that puppy had scales that is.

And could breathe fire

"Is that… a dino?"

"Yes…" I reply with a sigh, looking back at the baby in my arms-

 _FWOOSH!_

-only to get blasted in the face _again_.

Intentionally, this time, I'm sure of it.

Just one look at that smug little face confirms my suspicions.

"Holy shit, did the dino just breathe _fire_ at you?!"

"Yes…" I answer with gritted teeth, but the damned lizard seems completely unimpressed by my thunderous expression, just grinning at me with her legion of sharp pointy teeth.

For a moment, there's only the sound of people shuffling about, trying to clean the place up as best they can, before Jessica's dry voice cuts across the din.

"Your life is _so_ weird."

"Tell me about it." I say in a suffering tone of exhaustion.

Meanwhile, the little T-Rex keeps on happily wagging her tail.

* * *

 **AN:** I know that this isn't the chapter everyone has been waiting for, with the epic Hand confrontation. I had originally planned to start writing short pieces of that chapter, but my muse kidnapped me, and now here I am, 10k words in and still not at the climactic chapter. I'll be going back to studying though, so my earlier promise of that chapter coming out next week still stands, in the meantime I hope this tidied you over a bit.

 **Fun Fact:** Larry Hama's vision for G.I. Joe was originally intended as a new direction for Nick Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D.


	20. Interlude 3 - Criminal Meetings

**_Why was the snake mad at the jewel thief? Because he wanted his diamondback_**

* * *

In the grand tradition of illegal hideouts all over the world, this particular backroom behind an underground casino had a barely visible interior (more due to the heavy fog of cigar smoke that coated everything rather than because of the poor lighting) and the parts of it that were visible spoke both of great wealth, as well as low maintenance.

For instance, on the great oaken table that sat in the middle of the room, the rich original colour of the wood had faded with age, and instead had been replaced by the grimy combination of spilled tobacco, spilled alcohol and spilled blood, puckered pockmarks of bullet-ricochets and deep gashes of knife-slashes marking the table as if it were a tapestry of its violent history.

As a contrast to the shabby nature of the table however, small mountains of cash were strewn about on its top as if those riches were nothing more than pocket change to the five men seated around the table, themselves dressed in fine designer suits and adorned with heavy golden chains and watches.

It spoke of the kind of money that was either inherited or illegally gained, but never properly earned.

The five men were playing poker, two men on either side of the long end of the table, the last one seating at the head, leaving an empty chair at the other end. If an observant man would happen to look at these men, then he would immediately notice that their attention was more on the chair than on their cards.

A _wise_ man, however, would keep his mouth shut about it after seeing all the guns and knives that were tucked away in belts and hidden inside designer jackets.

"He's late." The sharply dressed man at the head of the table said in a calm tone of voice, which was at odds with his eyes, fixed on the chair across from him.

They showed a barely contained rage, just waiting for an outlet, and excuse for violence.

A sentiment that was shared by the other occupants of the table, considering that the missing person had been the one to request this rare meeting, as a dark skinned man to his left let out a scoff, throwing his cards down.

"O course him late! Him tryna show us, him betta than us! Mad disrespec, zeen?" the man spat, his anger causing his Jamaican drawl to come out even thicker than usual.

"Come on Nigel. Do you really think that little of me?" A voice suddenly called out, causing hands to fly to the handles of guns and to curl around knives in reflex as a one armed man strolled through the door.

"Klaue. Who do ya think ya are to just barge in here after making us wait for _an hour_?" a tall man with a heavy Irish accent growled, half-turning in his seat in order to look over his shoulder, incidentally also showing off the hand cannon tucked in the back of his belt.

Ulysses Klaue, once one of the most infamous arms dealers in the world, merely smiled at the anger being directed at him, giving a half-shrug in response.

"Got stuck in traffic. 'Sides, your guards here, they just let me walk in."

Right on the heels of that statement however, came the sounds of a struggle from beyond the doorway. The men around the table exchanged quick glances in confusion, before there was a cry of pain, and the large form of what was obviously a bouncer flew into the room, crashing hard against the opposite wall with enough force to put a hole in the plaster.

"After a bit of convincing, of course." Klaue said, his smile widening as behind him, a little girl walked into the room, her face drawn in a scowl as her eyes kept flitting around the people sitting around the table, scanning its occupants with a deadly gaze.

As Klaue walked over to the table to take the empty seat, the man to his left who had been sitting across from the Irish man turned towards him, fists clenched as he bared his teeth in anger.

"You ask for this fucking meeting, then you make us wait, then you come in here and beat on our people and you think you can just sit at our table, as an equal?! Who the fuck do you think you are, _puta_!?" the Mexican growled, a switchblade suddenly flashing in his hands, the point unwaveringly aimed at Klaue.

Stilling his motions, Klaue slowly turned his head towards the gang leader, his expression hewn from stone, before he coolly lifted an eyebrow.

"Shuri."

Directly on the heels of the command, _something_ flew through the darkened interior of the room, slamming into the blade of the Mexican's knife with a metallic ringing sound, wrenching it from his hand and carrying it to the far side of the room, slamming into the wall.

Before the rest of the occupants could react, five more objects flew through the room, each one imbedding themselves in the cards that each player had put on the table when Klaue had entered the room, revealing themselves to be slim throwing knives of an unfamiliar design.

Slowly, the gazes from the men went from the trembling blades stuck in their cards to the lithe form of the girl that was standing behind Klaue, her arms outstretched as she gave a challenging smirk. Leaning a bit forwards in his chair, making all eyes snap from the girl to him again, Ulysses stared the shocked looking Mexican straight in his eyes, his voice a low growl that easily carried across the silent room.

"I'm Ulysses _fucking_ Klaue. I'm the man who stole billions worth of the most precious material on Earth from the most advanced country in the world, and then evaded their best spies and assassins for _thirty years_. Every single black ops organization out there has bought their weapons from me. During the Cold War, both the West _and_ the Commies bought their weapons _from me_. I have made more money in a year than you and your gang combined will ever see in a lifetime. I know people in the darkest corners of the world that are capable of tearing down this city to its _bedrock_ if I were to ask them to. And if you ever, _ever_ insult me again, then I will track you down, cut you open from your throat to your dick, and hang you by your own intestines. _Capiche_?"

For a moment, utter silence reigned across the room, before the Mexican, wide eyed and sweating, gave a hesitant nod.

"I don't doubt your claims Klaue. But it makes me ask myself: the fuck are you doing _here_? We all control parts of New York, but outside of our turf there are other cats calling the shots around this city. If you're so global as you say you are, then why come to locals like us?" the man opposite Klaue asked leisurely, his posture one of supreme confidence and utter nonchalance.

"Glad you asked, Cottonmouth." The arms dealer replied, a smirk on his face.

For a moment, the other people's eyes flickered between Klaue and the now named Cottonmouth, as the tension in the room suddenly spiked when the Harlem gang leader's face suddenly went flat.

"I hate that name." Cornell Stokes slowly said, his voice low and full with the hidden promise of violence, but Klaue didn't seem to care, smile still on his face as he stared the murderous looking gang leader straight in his eyes.

"I don't give a fuck. Now, to answer your question, you all been watching the news lately, yeah?" Klaue said in response as he leaned back in his chair, drawing a few confused looks from the gang leaders, the Irish man letting out a scoff and a shake of his head.

"Course we have. What of it?"

"Then I suppose you all know about that new guy, McCole? Pretty big? Glowy eyes? Thinks he can take on Stark? Ring any bells?"

"Again, course we have. Now what of it?"

"He's the one who took my arm." Klaue bluntly replied, making all the other men sit a little straighter in their chairs as they couldn't help their eyes from flitting to the empty sleeve of the arms dealer's shirt, hiding the missing appendage.

They were taken off guard at the massive grin that grew on Klaue's face however.

"So in return, I'm gonna take his _head_."

For a moment, silence reigned across the table, before a diminutive Puerto Rican man spoke up for the first time since Klaue and Shuri had entered the room.

"Then what you need us for? You keep saying how scary as fuck you are, then go and put a bullet between the fucker's eyes." The man said, running a hand across his slicked back hair, getting nods of agreement from the other criminals, but Klaue just shook his head.

"It ain't that easy. He's one of them super freaks. And I'm _positive_ that the rest of the people, that work at that factory of his, are a bunch of freaks too."

"So wat you is sayin' is tat you need a crew?" Nigel asked him, rubbing his chin in contemplation as he stared intently at the crippled arms dealer.

"I can _pay_ for a crew, that ain't the problem. Fucker sold all my hardware, but he was stupid enough to think he got to all my liquid assets as well just because I told him that he did. No, I promised the girlie here that she could join in as well." Klaue said while pointing his thumb over his shoulder at Shuri, who hadn't moved from her spot ever since negotiations began.

While the gang leader's first response was to scoff at the idea of the little girl taking on the behemoth of a man, all of them couldn't help but quickly glance at the knives imbedded in the table in front of them.

They wisely kept their doubts to themselves.

"Which is why I came to you. It'll take a couple of years before little Shuri has grown into a proper threat, so if in the meantime I can fuck up his neighbourhood by selling my wares to the gangs of New York, then that just sweetens the deal."

"You got stock again?" Cottonmouth asked, keen interest clear in his eyes, but the Puerto Rican man instead frowned as he stared at Klaue in deep thought.

"Wakandan made, and I'm the only one that can get it to you since they keep putting down everyone else comin' through their borders without waving a white flag. Guaranteed Stark level tech, and since he's out of the business, it's the best shit you're gonna get your hands on. I returned there when they had that… change of regime going on, took some presents with me." Klaue said with a wide grin, his hand going inside the shirt that he wore, withdrawing an enormous futuristic looking gun, making all the other criminals jump from their chairs, pointing their own weapons in his direction.

Neither he, nor Shuri seemed all that bothered at the multitude of weaponry now trained on them and instead, Klaue just pointed his gun off to the side, nonchalantly pulling the trigger. There was a brief, soft hissing sound, before something slammed from the barrel and into the far wall faster than any of them could blink, smashing apart the ancient brickwork in an explosion of dust and mortar, a torso-sized hole punched into it.

The gunshot itself had been almost utterly silent.

With shocked looks, the criminals switched their gazes from the weapon to Klaue and back again, as they all slowly sat back down in their chairs, though they all kept their hands on their weapons.

"It's amazing, the things that Vibranium can do with sound. Sound's just vibrations in the air, you see, so you can do all kinds of cool shit with it. And then strap it to Stark-level weaponry, and well, _that's_ the result." Klaue mused with a nonchalant wave to the crumbling wall, and it didn't take a genius to see the interest and greed rise in the eyes of the gang leaders.

Except for the Puerto Rican man, who kept his eyes fixed on the massive cannon in Klaue's hand.

"You ain't telling us the whole of it, Klaue. First off, you ain't the only one with this kinda tech. After Hammer got locked up cause of that whole Expo mess and you had that yard sale of yours, someone else got their hands on massive cashes of Hammer-tech. New player, goes by the name of Diamondback. If you just wanted to flip your weapons, then you would be talking to him, he's been buying to add to his stock like some crazy _mamabicho_ , like he's readying for war or some shit like that. And if you just wanted New York fucked, then you would've gone to the big player. Don't know his name, nobody does, but he's got Japs and Russian and basically everyone else working for him. Dude fucking _owns_ the police. You want the _whole_ of New York fucked, you go to him. No, you're here for another reason." The man mused, dark eyes settling unwaveringly on Klaue's.

Behind the arms dealer, Shuri's hand slowly crept to the back of the belt she wore, but her movements were halted by Klaue raising a hand, while the cripple didn't take his eyes of the Puerto Rican.

"Colon, wasn't it? Domingo Colon? Ain't you a clever one. I'm gonna keep my eye on you." Klaue said with a grim little smile, and nobody around the table knew whether or not Colon had just made a tentative ally, or a hateful enemy.

Probably the latter, they simultaneously decided.

"But, to be fair, you ain't wrong. Thing is, I came to _you_ cause I _know_ you guys. I don't know this Diamonback, heard about him though. Fucker was one of my biggest competitors for the Hammer-stashes that flooded the black market after the shit show the company went through, but I bid him out. Until McCole screwed me over, now he's got his hands on it anyways. And I sure as hell ain't getting tangled with a guy who nobody knows the name of. I got enough contacts in the government as it is, I don't need a guy like him to rule the police for me. But above all, I came here for _you_." And with that, Klaue pointed his hand in Nigel's direction, who looked nonplussed at the sudden attention.

"Me? Wat ya need me fo?"

"Oh, I don't. _She_ does." Klaue said, pointing at Shuri again.

Seeing Nigel's confused look, the arms dealer elaborated.

"I promised the girlie that I would make her as strong as possible. We're already making some progress in that-" as he spoke, he glanced at the slumped over security guard who was still embedded in the wall, the criminals looking somewhat uncomfortable as they followed his gaze "-but she needs _more_."

For a moment, Nigel's eyes kept flitting between Shuri, Klaue and the massive gun that Klaue had lain on the table, before they slowly went back to Klaue again, caution visibly warring with greed on his face.

Being a criminal leader, Klaue wasn't surprised to see greed eventually win out.

"Ow can I 'elp ya, _tap a di tap_?"

Smiling at the respectful title, Klaue leaned a little forward in his chair.

"I need you to contact one of your guys. McIver. Johhny McIver."

"Johnny? Memba, mi tell yu, him is a _squeako_ , wat ya want a crazy like him fo?"

"From what little I heard, he's all into that mumbo-jumbo you Jamaicans are so damned proud of. Figure he could pass a little somethin' down to little Shuri here."

"Dinnae tell me ya _actually_ believe any 'o tha crap Klaue. Magic and shite like that." The Irish man scoffed, drawing a scowl from Nigel, but the arms dealer merely smiled, glancing over his shoulder as he did so.

"Let's just say, what I saw back there in Wakanda? It really… broadened my horizons."

* * *

After Nigel had promised to try and track down McIver, and tentative deals for weapons had been struck with the other criminals, Shuri and Klaue were walking back towards their hideout, the sun just starting its slow decent towards the Western horizon (it's a stubborn myth that all illegal meetings _have_ to happen at midnight. Only some do, and those are usually done by those on the lower rungs of the criminal hierarchy. Those at the top can afford to go to bed at the same reasonable time like everybody else, and after a lifetime of crime and unreasonable working hours, most tend to make abundant use of the fact), when the girl spoke up.

"Ulysses… about what you said, to the Mexican? About the whole… strangling and… cutting? You didn't really mean that, right? You just said that stuff to scare him, right?"

Coming to a halt, Ulysses looked at the little girl next to him, scratching the scruff on his cheek as he tried to figure out what he should say.

"Look… what happened back there, that's just the way things work. It's all about _respect_."

"People respect you when you threaten them?" Shuri asked in confusion, but Klaue just nodded his head.

"In a way. Just think about cops. Without cops, laws are just ink on paper that nobody other than lawyers bothers to read. But we still _respect_ those laws, because there are cops, and they threaten to hurt us and lock us up if we don't."

"We've been here almost a week and I haven't seen cops threaten people?" the little princess asked with a confused tilt to her head.

"That's because they're _civilized_. Or at least, everyone pretends to be. They don't go around _saying_ they're threatening people, the badge makes it… _implicit_. Meanin' everybody knows that they gonna fuck your shit up if you don't respect the laws or the badge. But back there? Ain't nobody pretending to be civilized. That's the real world, girlie, and in the real world there ain't no bloody cops and a badge doesn't mean a fucking thing. You gotta _take_ your place in the world, and say 'fuck off!' to everyone that tries to push you around and away from your spot, you got me? Back there, I took my place at the table, but the Mexican insulted me, tried to push me around. So, I needed to threaten him, show him that he should _respect_ the place I chose or I'd push back."

For a moment, Shuri and Klaue remained standing on the sidewalk, the throngs of people smoothly parting around them, completely oblivious to their existence (though Klaue had drawn a few outraged stares from mothers walking with their children when they picked up snippets of his cursing. Not that the criminal cared).

"And if you pushed back… you'd _really_ -"

"No! No, no, of course not! Uhh, it's just, uhh, making yourself scarier than you are, you know? Yeah, 'cause, uhh, that way you don't _need_ to push." Klaue hurried to assure the stricken little girl, bending down on one knee as he desperately lied in order to keep Shuri's loyalty.

The little girl was obsessed with killing the man who murdered her mother, and was willing to go to extreme lengths in order to achieve that (like beating up the bouncers from the casino they had just left behind) but most of all she was still a _little girl_ and the mention of cold-blooded torture like the kind that Klaue had threatened with still shocked her.

And if Klaue wanted to keep his 'get out of Wakanda free' card, than he had to make sure that she kept seeing him as the (relative) good guy.

"You mean like the grey catbird does?" Shuri asked in a small tone, some measure of relief coming through in her voice.

"Yea-, wait what?"

"The grey catbird. Male grey catbirds fluff their feathers and spread their lower tails to defend their territory when threatened by another male. The bird that is capable of puffing up and appearing to be the biggest will win the territory." Shuri stated proudly, as if reciting word for word from a book.

"Yeah. Sure, let's go with that." Klaue replied, shaking his head as he straightened and they continued walking.

After a few dozen steps, Klaue couldn't help but gaze at the little princess from the corner of his eyes, raising an eyebrow in question.

"How come you know so much about this, catbird thing?"

He was surprised to see Shuri blush a little, and the girl sped up her walk in embarrassment, prompting a deep laugh from Klaue.

"Oho, what's this? Little Shuri _doesn't_ want to tell me how she knows something? My my, the world must be coming to an end then!" Klaue teased, grinning even wider when the little girl stopped walking, stomping the ground with a tiny foot, arms crossed in front of her chest as she glared up at the arms dealer with an annoyed huff.

"Cause I thought they were _cat_ birds! I wanted to know what mix between a cat and a bird looked like okay?"

"HAHAHAHA!" Klaue burst out in booming laughter, causing people to stop and turn in his direction with questioning looks, while Shuri just kept on blushing harder and harder.

She quickly got fed up with her mentor's laughter however, and delivered a sharp kick to Klaue's leg, which quickly put a stop to his fun, though he couldn't keep a smirk off his face as he looked at her.

"And? What did they look like? Was it everything you hoped for?" Klaue said with a grin, which only increased when he saw her pout.

"Nah, they just look like these little grey birds, like a sparrow or something. Now! You're going to buy me pizza!"

"I am?" Klaue asked flatly, giving the little girl a look that said not to push her luck.

Shuri, being a girl of twelve, promptly ignored the look.

"Yeah, New York's pizza is supposed to be the best in the world, it says so in the folder, so I wanna try!" Shuri said excitedly, waving around a piece of paper that Klaue recognized from the tourist stands that lined the pier when they arrived by boat a few days ago.

"You know that everything that's on there is a tourist trap, right? Better to go to one of them little places, the authentic ones. Sure, they're not on that map of yours, but I guarantee you that their pizza is way better." Klaue rumbled as they kept on walking at an easy pace.

"Well do you _know_ any of these 'authentic' places?" Shuri asked in a haughty tone, drawing a chuckle out of Klaue.

"Nah, I've only been in New York a couple of times, and most of 'em I spent around the docks, no more than a couple of days. But I _do_ know how to blend into a crowd, and more importantly, how to lose one too. You wanted to become the best killer you could be, right? Then here's an assignment for you: find us a place to eat, without getting spotted on _any_ camera. Got it?"

Seeing Shuri's determined nod, Klaue gave a light laugh, waving her off with his arm.

"Well, go on then!"

With that, Shuri nodded again, before turning on her heel and striding forwards while keeping her eyes up in order to spot any CCTV camera's, intent on completing this challenge with flying colo-

"Again!"

"What?! I just started! There aren't any surveillance cams here, I checked!" Shuri yelled in frustration, and while the strange sentence drew some suspicious looks, people immediately brushed her off as playing a silly game with her guardian as they looked from the little girl with her hands on her hips to the smiling man that walked a few paces behind her.

"I know. But you missed the bunch of tourists on the other side of the street. Congratulations, you just made an appearance on over a dozen pictures." Klaue said with a smile, inclining his head towards where Shuri could spot a large amount of people bundled up in winter clothes, following a tour guide as they kept photographing the splendour of a New York City covered in fresh snow.

Placing his hand on her narrow shoulder, Klaue leaned down with a smile, forcing Shuri to look up at him.

"And _that's_ why we avoid tourist traps. Understood?"

Getting a nod from the little girl, Klaue gave a nod of his own as he straightened and began walking again, forcing Shuri to hurry in order to keep walking ahead of him.

"Now, again!"

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Marvel Comics owned the rights to the word "zombie" from 1975 through 1996, until they realized it was impossible to enforce the trademark.

 **Quick notice:** For those of you that don't know yet, I now have a ! I will still update as I usually do (I'm not gonna be a dick and hold chapters 'hostage' or anything like that) but if you have too much money on your hands, please feel free to throw it at me! I'm still trying things out, but by supporting me, you get extra goodies, like voting for which story gets the next update, and you get a shout-out at the end of each chapter! Speaking off, major props towards AndrewDC_MAC2 for being the _primus inter patronis_ (=first amongst patrons). Thanks dude!


	21. Plans for the future

**_Plans for the future (demise of my enemies)_**

* * *

I was sitting next to Burstein on a couch in my "lobby" as we stared in silence as across the room, Melvin Potter was eating his lunch.

Or trying to, anyway.

The process of actually bringing the sandwich that Betsy had packed for him to his mouth was made significantly more difficult by a petulant dinosaur trying to get said sandwich for herself.

Even though she had raided the fridge we kept in the workshop not even ten minutes ago.

A lot of people were giving Burstein the stink eye as they held him responsible for all of their lunches now being inside the blazing insides of a baby T-Rex, but while the scientist was morosely hanging his head and watching the noses of his sneakers, I could spot some of the men and women slip the little dino some snacks under their desks, careful not to show Burstein.

A fire breathing juvenile T-Rex was a headache and a half, and something that had no place in modern society.

She fitted in just fine in my workshop, if the little smiles she kept getting were anything to go by, as she strutted around, warbling at people as her curious eyes took in her surroundings.

Currently however, the little T-Rex had eyes solely for Melvin's sandwich.

The blacksmith of course just went on with happily munching on the lunch his girlfriend made him, completely ignoring the fire breathing dinosaur sitting at his feet.

Said dinosaur didn't take too kindly to that apparently, judging by the low growl coming from her.

With a sudden leap, she jumped at the sandwich in Melvin's hand, her jaws snapping shut mere inches away from her target, as the blacksmith calmly held her back with his other hand.

"No! Bad dino!"

Angry at being denied her prize, the T-Rex instead decided that the hand on her body was a much more accessible target, and with a yowl of victory she threw herself on Melvin's hand, her jaws chomping away with glee.

Melvin, being superdurable, took this as calmly as one would take a newborn kitten batting away at them, lifting his hand as he stared at the dinosaur with a raised eyebrow, as she kept clinging on with just her jaw, her legs dangling off the floor.

Giving a little shake, making the T-Rex swing side to side, Melvin's brow furrowed as he tried to lose the reptile that was clinging to him like a limpet, her teeth scraping across his unbreakable skin without leaving a mark.

"Bad dino! Let go!"

Not taking my eyes off this spectacle, I started talking with Burstein, who looked on with something between resignation and panic clear in his eyes.

"You _do_ realize why making her was a bad idea, right?"

"I told you, Michael, I never actually expected this to _work_! I mean, honestly, creating a _dinosaur_?! That's impossible!"

I inclined my head pointedly at where Melvin had given up on gently shaking the T-Rex loose, and instead had just decided on giving a wide swing with his arm, making the dinosaur sail off further into the workshop with an indignant yowl.

She'd be fine, Extremis combined with her natural toughness, even at such a young age, would make sure of that.

"And yet…"

"I know. I _know_ , okay!"

"I mean, I put up a sign and everything…"

"Look, turning my theories about manipulating the genetic structure of an organism into practical experimentation was a bad idea, I get that now and it won't happen again, I promise."

I was about to respond when I saw the little T-Rex come flying through the air in an impressive leap at Melvin's sandwich, jaws opened wide, but the blacksmith turned away with a surprising amount of grace, letting the dinosaur sail by with an indignant squawk.

Melvin of course just kept eating like nothing happened.

"It's not that you put your theories into practise that pissed me off Noah. I'll be honest, your research is pretty amazing and the fact that you could actually pull it off blows my mind. But making a _dinosaur_? It's not something we can afford to deal with right now Noah. Hell, it's something we can _never_ really afford to deal with! T-Rex was estimated to weigh in at around 8 tonnes, do you have any idea what an animal like that can do when juiced up on Extremis, with brains to boot?"

Watching numbly as the little dino decided to tackle Melvin himself instead of his illusive sandwich, I could do nothing but look on as an extinct reptile the size of a medium dog barrelled into the unbreakable blacksmith, toppling him from the couch he'd been sitting on.

"Why couldn't you have experimented on something smaller? Like mice? Fluffy cute little mice. Everyone uses mice, you know."

Burstein's amused snort takes me off guard, and I glance at him from the corner of my eye in question.

"You'd prefer Extremis-enhanced _rodents_? Really?"

Turning to look at him fully (thereby blissfully avoiding having to look at the wave of heat and angered yelling that's now firmly out of my view) I give my answer in the sternest voice I can manage.

"I'd prefer all animals _not_ on Extremis in the first place, thanks."

Seeing the scientist look down in guilt I let out a deep sigh.

"Look, like I said, the research itself is incredible. Not only mapping the genome as extensive as you did, but manipulating it as well… the medical applications are through the roof. If you could make this work on humans, then we could make designer babies a reality. An entire generation of humanity that will never have to suffer from genetic diseases. A generation that will always be at the peak of health, one that could live for _centuries_."

"You know people are going to protest us changing humanity in such a large way."

"A minority. A vocal one, true, but still. The majority of the people will want in on this, and the more important minority, the one at the top, the one with _actual_ power, they'll pay and do anything for perfection."

"It's one step closer to the Omni-Cure."

For a moment, both me and Burstein are silent, as the true ramifications of what he has done start to sink in with us.

"I'm pulling you away from our indestructible armour production. You said it yourself, the procedure is as good as it can be with the facilities that we have here, and Melvin knows enough about it to lead that team on his own. It's only about six people and they all like him, it shouldn't be a problem."

"Then what will I be doing?"

"Take over from Sterns. My meeting with Hogarth went very well, and most of what we came up with in order to stay ahead of Stark I will put in the hands of Mason, he's probably the best of us at tech, even better than Sterns. He and his team can handle the workload, after all we just need enough for proof of concept and personal use, we'll sell the designs for mass production to the big companies anyway."

"You want me to take over from Samuel? Alone?" Burstein asked, his tone an odd mix of hopefulness and nervousness.

Before today, I had only ever allowed Burstein to _assist_ on Sam's various projects, with the egghead always taking the lead. Noah had always been fine with this, recognizing that even brain boosted as he was, Sterns raw intellect still outclassed his by several levels. Both being geneticists, they generally got along pretty well whenever I put them to work on something, like the Rejuvenation Serum that had turned out instrumental in getting Hogarth on my side.

Other than the leather-production though, he had never headed any such projects on his own.

And considering his own independent foray let to Melvin rolling around on the floor of the warehouse, tangling with a live dinosaur as he desperately pushed her nose away from his sandwich, well…

I could understand why he was surprised that I was essentially promoting him.

"I trust you to come up with a solution whenever I present you with a problem. Sam himself told me that you could handle the stuff I currently have him working on for me on your own. He's much more interested in the Pym Particles. Or soon to be Cross Particles, I suppose. He wants to see if their unique properties allow for cold-fusion. Applying _that_ level of tech to the Arc Reactors…"

"Since when is Samuel an expert on low-energy nuclear reactions?"

I couldn't help myself.

"Since last night."

Seeing his incredulous stare, I chuckle and elaborate, desperately trying to ignore the way that Melvin just grabbed the T-Rex by the tail, swinging her around his head a couple of times, before throwing her back into the workshop again.

"Ever since I told him that I wanted to get on board with Pym Technologies, he's been researching it on his down-time. So around two to three weeks or so. Most of the theoretical research has been done already, but nobody out there knows how to put it into practice. Sterns might."

Getting an understanding nod from my scientist we both turned back towards the couch on the other side of the room, Melvin sitting down with a contended sigh as we did, smoke coming from his shirt.

As we watched, a bedraggled, exhausted looking dinosaur trudged over towards him, climbing onto the couch with some difficulty due to her short hands, before she finally settled on the cushion next to Melvin, resting her head on her tail with a pout.

It was the first time I'd seen a dinosaur mope.

Then again, before today I had never seen a dinosaur at all, so for a while it would be a time for a lot of firsts, I suspected

"Are you… are you going to, you know? Terminate her?" Burstein asked hesitantly, afraid of my answer, but willing to abide by my decision all the same.

I meant what I said to him. We can't afford a distraction like a fire breathing dinosaur. Maybe not ever, but _definitely_ not now. Not when Stark threw me for a loop by stepping into the corporate ring with me, willing to play ball and showing in his opening move that he was far better and more experienced with it that I was. Not when Hogarth was leaning on me to release tech that would end up pushing the way humanity lived forwards by at least a decade.

Not when the Hand was out to drastically and permanently increase the distance between my head and my neck.

Preferably by using a sword.

No, I definitely meant what I said. It was the smart thing to do. There would be people out there that would argue that it was the _right_ thing to do as well. And after all the blood that was already on my hands, what more was one animal, especially one that could monumentally disrupt my plans?

And _yet_ …

As I looked on, I couldn't help but smile as Melvin raised what was left of his sandwich to his mouth, before he looked over at the sad little dinosaur sitting next to him. And of course, being the gentle soul that he was, Melvin gave a sigh and held out his lunch towards the T-Rex.

The little murderlizard looked up in surprise, looking closely at the blacksmith with a calculating gaze, wary for any traps. Then, fast as lightning, the sandwich disappeared into her fiery gullet, the T-Rex having an immensely pleased expression on her face as she licked her chops.

As Melvin let out a hearty laugh when the dinosaur burped, spouting forth a torrent of flames, I turned towards Burstein with a half-smile.

"No. She's ours now. We'll just have to deal with it, I suppose."

Seeing his relieved expression, I give him a pat on the back (sending him nearly flying from our couch) as I stand up and start walking over to my desk, throwing a last barb over my shoulder as I see Melvin leaning back into the couch, patting the little dinosaur on her sleepy head.

" _You're_ going to walk her though! And feed her! And clean up after her!"

"What?! NO! Michael! Michael, you can't do this to me! She'll eat me alive! _Michael_!"

"Have fun you two!"

"MICHAEL!"

* * *

"I'd say a penny for your thoughts, but listening to _you_ is something that really should be considered a high-paying job. So let's just agree on five bucks, and leave it at that, yeah?"

"Hello Jessica. Done with cleaning out every liquor store in a five mile radius already? Impressive, I thought after last time they'd have upped their stock. You know, selling by the keg instead of per bottle, that sorta thing."

"Funny. But I know you can be wittier than that. You didn't even use a pun, sooooo, hmm, a 3 out of 10 this time."

"Ouch. The pain. It is unbearable. Surely, my soul has been rent asunder. Oh, woe is me."

"Yes, yes, Mr. Edgy McEdgelord, having millions really makes you sad, I get it, 100 dollar bills are a pain to wipe your tears with and all that jazz. Now, you're going to tell me why you've been brooding at your desk for an _hour_ , or do I have to get Susan to burn your paperwork to ashes?"

Turning to look up at her with a raised eyebrow, I couldn't keep the confusion out of my voice.

"Susan? Who is Susan?"

Pointing over her shoulder, I see the little T-Rex stomp her feet as she's glaring up at one of the women that I had healed with Extremis. Angered at something, the dinosaur let out a gout of flame, looking immensely pleased with herself when she managed to scorch the woman's pants.

That is, until the woman opened her mouth and let out a burst of flame of her own twice the size of what Susan had managed, sending the T-Rex flying towards Burstein's desk with a panicked shriek.

"You named a firebreathing _dinosaur_ that will grow up big enough to swallow humans whole… _Susan_?"

"Hey don't look at me, Burstein came up with it. She's named after some T-Rex skeleton or something, I didn't care so I wasn't paying attention. Now, stop trying to avoid the subject, what's got you brooding this time?"

"The Hand."

"Oh."

I was no Holdo, making complicated plans that I kept only to myself, thus ensuring confusion and distrust within my ranks, leading only to catastrophic failure and loss of life that could have _easily_ been avoided.

No, right after things had calmed down and we were done cleaning up the mess that _Susan_ (apparently) had caused, Sterns had come very close to trying to find out whether or not he could smack me around with those six robotic arms of his.

Only the promise that I would explain in detail to everyone what had gone down during my conversation with Alexandra kept him at bay.

So I did exactly that, telling them what happened, though I edited it somewhat to make it seem as if the Hand had revealed itself, rather than me already knowing of their existence, as well as making it look as if the whole Hydra thing was just something that I let slip out of panic and I was just as surprised as the rest of them to realize that the Hand clearly believed Hydra still existed, _honest_.

I know that neither Sterns nor Jessica fell for it, and Burstein might suspect something, but they decided to keep quiet about it.

Probably because after I told everyone my version of what had happened, I impressed on everyone in my workshop (in total about twenty people) just how dangerous those two organisations were, just how far their influence reached and to what levels of power as well. Whenever someone asked how I knew all that, I just deflected their questions, citing my hacking skills as my source.

For all that they were annoyed that I was lying to them about how I knew what I did, Jessica and Sterns at least appreciated that I tried to impress on everyone just in how much danger we possibly were, and they understood that it was in the best interest of everyone if we collectively kept our head on a swivel, instead of questioning my sources or the authenticity of my warnings.

Didn't mean that they had to like it though.

"So, what about the Hand? You found a way to deal with them yet?"

Leaning back into my office chair, placing my huge paws behind my bald head, I glanced at Jessica as she's leaning against my desk, arms crossed in front of her chest. Should I tell her what I'd been mulling over? So far in this new life I had always kept my plans close to the chest out of necessity.

If anyone knew that the silent kid at the back of the class was actually making plans on how to achieve omnipotence, I'd be in a mental asylum faster than you could say "dying to bullets even though you have superspeed is dumb".

Still, it was getting increasingly difficult to keep this many balls in the air simultaneously on my own. I couldn't bother Sterns since he was swamped with passing on his projects to Burstein, getting started on perfecting the Pym Particle _theory_ (apparently changing that name was impossible, just like Newton's Third law would always remain _Newton's_ Law) into the marketable Cross Particle _technology_ (officially, there was no Pym Particle technology, because officially, there was no Ant-Man) and of course on maintaining his beloved Oliver.

Considering all that Sterns is capable of, I wouldn't be surprised if the truck could leave the atmosphere at this point.

Still, having a soundboard for the whirlwind of thoughts currently in my head to bounce off on might help somewhat in formulating a plan on how to deal with the current crisis.

"I know who's in their inner circle. I'm just trying to figure out how to get to them and kill them without getting seen. A murder charge would be really unfortunate to have when Stark finally drags my ass to court." I say, trying to inject some levity into my voice, but by the stern look on Jessica's face, I can tell that my bleak humour falls flat.

For all that's she's a hard-ass, Jessica has a surprisingly rigid moral compass.

Sure, she plays fast and loose with the law occasionally (as shown during our first meeting, where I caught her ripping apart an ATM) but she was _very_ strict in her moral convictions.

She wasn't above smacking crooks around for a bit, but she refused to kill.

My impassioned speech on how dangerous our hidden enemies were (and how little effect the law would have on them) had made sure that she at least didn't protest me going out to try and kill them, but I could tell that she disapproved, and if I were to ask her to accompany me on a strike against either the Hand or Hydra, then she'd probably decline.

"You want to kill them so bad, why not wait for them at night in their house, like some common murderer?"

Choosing to ignore her frosty tone (having long since realized that for all that she tried to portray herself as a bad ass, she was still _very_ naive compared to her older counterpart from the show), I instead closed my eyes in thought.

"Because these kind of people probably don't live in _houses_ in the suburbs. They're _the_ rich and powerful in New York, they're the kind of people that live in those fancy penthouses, smack-dab in the middle of Manhattan."

"So?"

"So, _camera's_. Lots of 'em too I'd guess."

"Well, it looks like executions are off the table then." Jessica said stiffly, but I could hear the unspoken relief in her voice.

Seems that working for a company in which the CEO actively set out to throw people off skyscrapers didn't sit too well with her, despite her tough guy act.

"I explained to you why these people need to die, Jessica. It's not something that I do for my enjoyment, it's just a fact that if I don't kill them first, they _will_ try to kill all of you. And not everyone here regenerates limbs or has unbreakable skin. You work for me now, it's my job to keep you all safe-"

"I don't need fucking _anybody_ to keep me safe! I can take care of myself!" Jessica bit out harshly, pushing off from my desk, feet planted firmly as she looked at me challengingly, a glint in her eye.

Oh boy, stress was getting to her again. Despite my earlier joke about her raiding liquor stores, the truth was that between this shit storm going on, her assignments for me and the mess that was Susan, she had severely cut back on her drinking habit, just out of sheer practicality.

She wasn't showing withdrawal symptoms exactly (could people like her and me even get addicted anymore now that we healed the way we did?) but she felt a lot more stressed all the same. Combined with my statement that I wanted to kill as many ninja's and Nazis as I could get my hands on, meant that she was itching for a fight.

"I meant my people in general. Sterns. Mason. Burstein. They're smart, but just as fragile as any baseline human. And the Extremis people heal fast, sure, but you can't heal if your head is cut off. And unbreakable skin is nice, but they still need to breathe. And you… you're strong Jessica, but you ain't bulletproof _and_ you don't heal-"

"I heal!"

"Not fast enough!"

"So then _make_ it fast enough!"

"I CAN'T!"

For a moment, there's a circle of silence around my desk, before people hurriedly bow themselves over their paperwork and assignments again, so obvious in trying to pretend that they hadn't been listening in they might as well have been shouting it from the rooftops.

"What do you mean, you can't?"

Rubbing my face in frustration at Jessica's hesitant tone, I couldn't help but let out an explosive sign.

"Sterns and I looked over your bloodwork. You're genes, they've been… altered. At first I thought you were doused with a certain chemical, I have heard of it working in other cases but… We've mapped your genome and isolated the parts in it that have been changed, but honestly, we have only the vaguest idea what it actually _is_ , not to mention _how_ it gives you your abilities. Sterns has been running a spectrum analysis on your blood for two days now and we still don't know what's inside you that gives you your strength or flight. We're getting there, if Burstein can turn a chicken into a dinosaur then we can also figure out just what the hell has been done to you, but we need more time. At this point we think you produce _some_ kind of energy, but since on a fundamental level _everything_ is energy, that really doesn't get us any closer to understanding what it actually is. Which means that we also don't know how it reacts to certain triggers."

Yeah, finding out that Jessica _hadn't_ been doused in the same chemicals that Matt had been like in the comics was a punch to the gut.

' _I **really** should have bothered watching season two of her show, instead of occasionally looking something up on the wiki, like who the new villains were...'_

"Look I get that you and egghead are science buddies and whatever, but just tell me in English what's going on." Jessica demanded irritated and after a short pause, I tried to explain my thoughts to her in a clear way.

"If I were to inject you with Extremis… you might blow up."

"…what."

"Extremis is the most likely scenario in where you blow up, but honestly with what we have discovered about how your genetic code has been altered, you could blow up with _any_ enhancement we give you. We performed a whole battery of tests on synthesized blood made from your sample, and sometimes it turned highly flammable, other times it was flame retardant and one time it actually turned _radioactive_. As you can guess, combining a serum which rewrites your genome _again_ in order to kick your body into overdrive and literally burn you up... well we know very little about how your energy field works, but we're pretty sure getting splattered across the workshop would be bad for your health."

For a moment, she's completely silent, slowly turning towards my desk as she leans heavily on the wooden surface.

"You okay there Jessica?"

"I'm fine! Just… just shut up and give me a moment… please."

I patiently waited until she let out a deep breath, before she turned around and leaned against my desk again. For a moment, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, before I decided to just say 'fuck it'. It wasn't as if I had the concentration to finish my projects anyway, not with the Hand looming over my head.

Reaching over to my left, I opened my bottom drawer, taking a bottle of Limoncello out of it, which I placed on my desk next to the little stack of paper cups. Under Jessica's amused stare, I poured both of us a generous cup, before screwing the lid back onto the bottle, taking my own cup in hand.

Slowly, Jessica took her cup as well, staring at the lemon-yellow liquid with a half-smile before she glanced at me with a teasing look.

"Really? _This_ soft crap?"

"What? I like sweet, and not all of us can secretly be a trucker deep down in our soul and chug down Jack Daniels like it's nothing. Some of us actually have something called _taste_ , maybe you've heard of it?"

Taking a sip from her drink, Jessica gave a theatrical shudder, fixing me with a mock-glare.

"Well, after this I'm not sure I ever want to taste anything ever again."

"Just shut up and drink Jones."

She laughed, but she didn't protest me filling up her cup again once she was finished (before me of course, I was still sipping and enjoying the taste of the sweet alcohol).

"So."

"What?"

"So, apart from finding out someone messed with your genetics, why did hearing that I couldn't enhance you get to you so bad? You already have powers, and the first time I brought up getting more when I asked for that sample of your blood, you didn't talk to me for a day. I just figured that you didn't want more powers."

For a moment, Jessica avoided my gaze, hiding behind her cup before she realized it was empty already. Giving a tired sigh, she held out the cup again, and dutifully I poured her another, as she seemed to mull over her words.

At the rate we both could put away alcohol, we might just end up raiding the local liquor stores after all.

"I don't. Want more powers, I mean. The ones I have… the cost for getting them, it was… and really, what have they done for me except just keep on dragging me into more and more shitty situations?" Jessica laughs bitterly, and some primal part of me, passed on in men from generation to generation from the moment we invented fire, kicks my survival instincts into gear and I realize that she doesn't expect an answer.

So, I just keep my mouth shut and let her rant, dutifully filling up her cup whenever she pushes it my way (she's on number three. I'm almost finished with number one).

"So no. I don't want more powers. I _don't_. Except that… except that I do. That night, when you beat me at arm-wrestling? That was the first time since the… since the accident, that I actually lost to someone. I forgot how that felt. Scared the shit out of me. But… it was also _exciting_. I could feel how strong you were and I… I wanted that too. And now you keep trying to scare us, telling us there's ancient ninja's after us, that Hydra is still alive, that everyone in the alphabet, from CIA to NSA and all of 'em in between, are after our tech and enhancements. For fuck's sakes Michael, you won't let any of the smart guys go out without a guard of at least two unbreakable guys."

Shrugging at the look she sends me, I knock back the last of my own drink and start refilling it immediately (I like the taste and I can't get drunk so technically I can drink this stuff like lemonade, but I can't shake that uncomfortable feeling of being improper whenever I show up at eight in the morning with liquor in my hands so I save it like any baseline would).

"I just figured that being bulletproof is more useful for protecting someone else instead of just being able to heal yourself pretty quickly. Someone tries to take Sterns out with a sniper round, he could just shoot _through_ an Extremis guard. A Burstein-guy could just stand in front of Sterns instead and they'd both be fine." I say nonchalantly, getting an exasperated shake from Jessica.

"You have a really weird form of paranoia, you know that right?"

"It ain't paranoia when they're really out to get you."

"True, but you have pretty strange ideas on who is out to get you, and how they want to go about doing it too. Sniping _through_ someone? There's nobody alive that would take a shot like that." Jessica scoffs.

I can't help but see characters flash in front of my eyes at her confident statement. Hawkeye. Bullseye. Black Widow. I'm pretty sure that once he gets his powers, Peter Parker could make such a shot. Then there's all the supersoldiers running around of course.

Except, here they aren't just characters.

 _Here_ , they are actually out there, somewhere. And they could strike at any moment, and none of them will be so courteous as to give a nice little heads-up that they're going to blow my best friend's head straight off his shoulders.

Shaking the morose thoughts from my mind, I glance up at Jessica with a smirk.

"You said it yourself: my whole life is strange."

"Touché." Jessica said with a roll of her eyes, a small smile on her lips.

Seeing that her mood had settled somewhat, I hazarded a question.

"So, you never really decided on whether or not you wanted more powers?"

Biting her lip, Jessica let her eyes roam across the workshop a few times before they finally settled on me.

"Look. On the one hand, I've been through enough shit because of the powers that I already have. On the other hand, I like the idea of having your level of strength, and considering the type of assholes that are after us, getting more powers might turn out handy. And in the middle of that dilemma, you just come out and tell me that getting more powerful might fucking _blow me up_ if we tried to do it now!"

"Right, I can imagine how that would be something you'd rather not hear."

"No shit, Stark."

You know, even after more than twenty years of living in an entirely different universe, it's the little things, like subtly different expressions, that always drive home to me just far from home I actually am.

Rubbing a hand over my bald head, I knock back the last of my Limoncello, filling both our cups again as I mull over my next words.

"I can't give you Extremis, Jessica. The way it rewrites the DNA of its host is too unpredictable, too extensive, too _volatile_ to combine with the changes that's already been made to your genome. We know where the changes are made, we know roughly how it affects your body, but until we are absolutely a 100% about how your powers function, I'm not taking the risk. You're not an ostrich embryo, you're a grown woman and an employee in my company, so pulling another Susan is going to be a hell of a lot more difficult, but we're getting closer each and every day. I've put Burstein on cracking what it actually is, considering what he has shown to be capable of it should be a piece of cake. And the very moment we know how your genetics work up to the finest details then we might try and enhance you with the tamer ones. The supersoldier serum, or the Brain Booster."

"Why can't you do those now?"

"We _could_ give you the Brain Booster, next to the Burstein-treatment it's the only one that doesn't drastically change your DNA. We're not going to give it to you right now though, since we have no idea how the energy is regulated inside your body. You still have powers after all this time since whatever experiment was performed on you, which means you're producing the field yourself, though we'd have to put you in a CAT-scan in order to see just _how_ you're producing that energy, and we don't have that here. Sterns could probably whip up a portable one in a day or so, but with this whole Hand-mess going on he hasn't had the time. In any case, messing around with your brain might also mess up the production rate of the energy, or change its make-up. Either result isn't pretty."

"And the supersoldier serum?"

"Brings you to the absolute theoretical peak that you can be. If it considers the changes inside you as a disease or something that's malformed, it might just try to 'fix' you. Again, the result wouldn't be pretty."

Jessica mulls my answer over for a few moments, before she fixes me with an intense stare.

"And the Burstein-treatment? You said it yourself, it doesn't mess with my DNA too much."

"Dunking a woman filled with an unknown energy field in an acid bath and then heating both to immense temperatures? Yeah, that's not going to happen. Hogarth made me rich, but I ain't got the cash to replace all the docks of New York." I said sarcastically, glad that it at least drew a chuckle from the dour woman.

"Right. Guess that makes my choice for me, huh?" she tries to say calmly, but I can hear the bitterness in her voice, but whether that is because she can't get more powers, or can't _decide_ to turn down more power I cannot tell.

"We'll figure it out soon, Jessica. You have the smartest people in the world on your team now. It'll be fine." I try to reassure her, my hand reaching out to grab the bottle, only to find that we finished it all during our talk.

And it was such nice Limoncello too.

"What a fucking pity party." Jessica muses, pulling herself up on her arms, planting herself down on my desk, legs dangling over the edge as I look at her from the corner of my eye.

" _I_ can't get more powers which would leave me better prepared against a bunch of assholes that might try to kill me, while _you_ can't figure out a way to kill those same assholes first."

Chuckling a bit at her bleak prognosis, I start tapping my foot as I look up at the ceiling, deep in thought.

"I have vague ideas about our offence. I know what they're after, what they're _desperate_ for. If I can rip Midland Circle apart brick by brick, I think I might just get all of them anyways. Even ninja's get aneurysms, right?" I say with a grin directed at Jessica, who rolls her eyes in response.

"Midland Circle huh? Guess you 'hacked' that too, did you?" she says, only barely refraining from making the actual rabbit-ears finger motions, though she tries to substitute them with an impressive scowl and eye roll.

"I did, yes." I answer, my face completely flat, and Jessica gets the hint as she quickly drops the subject of my unexplained amounts of knowledge.

"I'm iffy on if I should do it though. Not only could I get spotted, going on the offensive would leave us open to a counter-attack, and at the moment we're far more vulnerable than the Hand is, even without their precious Midland Circle."

"So you want to up our defences first?"

Giving a nod in response, I can finally feel the next Steps forming in my mind. I'll turn this workshop into my bastion, and make sure that my people are kept safe. But that didn't have to mean that I should allow both the Hand and Hydra any prepping time.

There were plenty of other people that would be all too happy to hunt those guys down for me.

Step 14: Enhance everyone not already upgraded with Brain Booster, then drill them mercilessly in CQC and weapons handling. I have a couple of vets here, as well as ex-security, they can train their new colleagues in how to defend themselves. The Brain Booster should allow everyone to reach a sufficient level of capability before the chips are down.

Step 15: Fortify the workshop even further by getting Radcliffe here, Brain Boost him and put him on making me an AI that can defend the building even further from cyber warfare. Put some weapons on the outside of the building so it has a little teeth as well, so to speak. Hell, after this is all over, I could have a LMD made for the AI and have her be the CEO. Only after me, Sterns, Mason and Burstein have gone over her code twice in order to avoid a Skynet-scenario.

Step 16: Use the Revitalization Serum on Peggy Carter and have her start a crusade against Hydra. Whether she succeeds or not is irrelevant, as long as she makes life hell for the Nazi's to the point they can't launch a proper counterattack against the Hand. Or me, for that matter. If she puts in a good word for me with Steve, then that's just the cherry on top.

I can take care of Step 14 right now, it's a little over half past five in the afternoon, so everyone's still here. As for Step 15, in the process of trying to complete Step 11c: recruit Radcliffe, I had Jessica track the scientist down, and she said she had found him. All I needed to do was have her get him here. Time was of the essence, so she could be as forceful as she thought necessary to get his ass over here.

The guy would be so enticed by the idea of the Brain Booster and unlimited research that his loyalty was all but assured.

Just had to keep him away from the Darkhold.

The only problem with Step 15 was sending out Jessica. I didn't know what the usual response time was from the Hand against such a threat like I had made them believe there was, but I wouldn't put it past them to already have people in place in order to start picking off my employees one by one.

And like I had just explained to her, I didn't dare upgrade her until I knew more about the genetic treatment that had enhanced her.

I needed to get into contact with Karl Malus. The man was a genius who achieved with science the same thing that the Hand had been obsessed with for the past thousand years or so.

Unfortunately, he was also married to Jessica's psycho mom.

I glanced at Jessica from the corner of my eye, debating on what (if anything) I should tell her about her mother and what little I could piece together about the origin of her power based on half-remembered wiki pages.

No, better leave _that_ crisis for another day, fix the current one first. Still, a greater understanding on just what made Jessica's powers work would not only afford her a far greater deal of motion if it turned out I could give her more enhancements, it would also allow me to perform a similar procedure on myself.

Self-powered flight...

Track down Malus first, between my think tank and Jessica's investigative abilities it should be possible. Reel him in with the promise of the Brain Booster, telling him that it holds the answer to curing Jessica's mom.

If he cures her, then Jessica gets her happy ending. If he can't, if Alisa turns out to be permanently damaged, then I'll kill her before Jessica can figure out the connection between them.

It would probably mean killing Malus too, unfortunately.

If it comes to the second option, then there's not a doubt in my mind that she'll hate me from the depths of her soul if she ever finds out that I killed her mother, but it can't be helped.

I'm absolutely convinced that if it turns out she can't be cured, Malus will beg me to lock her up instead, which will _inevitably_ lead to her escape, or twisting Jessica to her own ends somehow, leading to even more death and misery.

Narrative _demands_ it.

Well, in my professional and cultured opinion, narrative can go on right ahead and fuck itself

Frank was right, that night he met Matt up on the roof.

The whole hero/vigilante act was just a half-measure at best. If you wanted to get shit done, if you wanted _results_ than you just had to sacrifice your morals and get your hands dirty.

What was my own piece of mind, my own satisfaction with my pristine moral compass, when it is paid for with the lives of innocents?

Chew on that Batman.

Think twice before you let the Joker live because you think ' _it's the right thing to do'_ next time.

A firm shove against my head sends my office chair sliding meters backwards, snapping me from my musings. Rubbing the spot on my cheek in confusion, my eyes fall on Jessica whose rubbing her raw knuckles with a grimace, though her eyes shine with a sense of victory.

"The hell Jessica?!"

"You were brooding again!"

"... you've been talking to Sterns again, haven't you?"

* * *

Standing outside of a diminutive retirement home in downtown New York, I can't help but feel a little nervous, mostly due to feeling dozens of gazes on my back, sending pinpricks and needles up and down my neck.

Ridiculous, I know, after all I had anticipated that the home would be watched, and I knew that none of my watchers were capable of even scratching me, but still.

There's something primal about _knowing_ that you're being watched, without seeing who (or what) it is that is watching you.

Why do you think the original Predator movie was such a hit?

Squaring my massive shoulders underneath the nice suit I'm wearing I put my observers out of my mind (the very few beings on this planet capable of really hurting me don't have the need to remain stealthy anyways, so I _know_ I'm perfectly safe) as I walk up the few steps to the door, pressing my sausage like finger to the doorbell.

In a matter of moments, a nurse opened the door for me, her inviting smile quickly running away the further she needed to crane her head in order to look me in the eyes as I loomed in the doorway.

Sure the media loved me, as did a large portion of New York, but most people would feel uncomfortable when there's suddenly a hulking behemoth with eyes like the devil standing on your porch.

"Ah, Mr. McCole, right? How may I help you?" the nurse asks timidly, and I can't tell whether or not it's genuine or just a _very_ good act from an undercover spy.

A few conversations would be sufficient for my advanced brain to start profiling her against a proper baseline, based on her micro expressions, breathing and heart rate as well as perspiration.

For now though, I'd just assume she was a spy, though for who was anyone's guess currently. There's no way in hell that I'll believe that the person I'm visiting isn't under constant watch, even if it's only a skeleton crew.

Already placing an enormous designer clad foot on her doorstep, I lean even further forwards, my bald head nearly brushing the top of her doorframe as I force her further inwards by the sheer force I'm naturally excluding, a friendly expression and bright smile on my face doing nothing to stop the woman from keeping a healthy distance from me.

"I'm here to see Peggy Carter, may I come in please?"

* * *

 **AN:** I'm sorry, I really am. I wanted to have Peggy recruited by this chapter, diving straight into the awesome ass-kicking everyone (including me) has been waiting for, but Jessica came in and took up too much space. Originally I just had Michael musing on how to move against the Hand and Hydra, but I realized that'd it be a much more pleasant read if he actually talked about his plans with someone, and Jessica just sort of naturally stepped into that role. I haven't watched Jessica Jones season 2 (so neither has Michael) which means that the both of us were surprised to find out that in the MCU she _wasn't_ doused with chemicals similar to the one that gave Matt his powers. Oh well, doesn't really matter in the end.

 **Fun Fact:** Michael Jackson looked into buying Marvel Comics in the late '90s because he wanted to play Spider-Man in a movie.

 _Special thanks to my Patrons AndrewDC_MAC2, Thordur hrafn and Daniel Dorfman, you guys are awesome! If anyone else finds themselves with too much money on their hands, feel free to throw it at my face! You'll get neat little extras in return! You can find me under the same username._


	22. First Strike

_**First strike**_

* * *

As I walked into the room where Peggy Carter was resting I was struck by how… _frail_ she looked. Intellectually I knew of course that she was a really old lady by now, but it was still jarring to see the woman who I knew once flattened a marine with a single punch lying in her bed, her head slowly turning in my direction with a confused glance, her hair long turned silver and her face wrinkled with age.

The nurse (who had offered some feeble protests as I basically just invited myself inside) came up next to me, her hands on her hips and a stormy expression on her face.

"Sir! I must ask you to leave, Mrs. Carter is not receiving visitors at the moment, she needs her rest-"

"It's all right Lucy. Let him in. I'll call you if I need anything sweetie." Carter interrupted from her bed, a gnarled hand giving a weak half-wave as she gave a gentle smile towards her caretaker.

The nurse's eyes flitted from Carter to me and back again, before she let out a huff, walking around me and over towards the bed. Fluffing up the pillows, allowing Peggy to straighten up somewhat, Lucy poured the old woman a glass of water, before giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"If you start to feel tired, or if _anything_ hurts at all…"

"Oh, I'll be fine Margaret. You run along now dear." Peggy said with a generous chuckle as she patted her caretaker's hand, missing the flash of sadness that crossed the nurse's face.

' _Her emotional reaction implies positive feelings towards Carter, meaning a decreasing likelihood of her being loyal to Hydra. Not going to rule it out just yet, but it's promising at least.'_

Giving a soft smile at the confused old lady, Lucy (or Margaret. Or neither) straightened and made to leave the room, giving me a stern look that clearly said that I had better not push Peggy too much, _or else_. Laying an enormous paw on her shoulder as she was about to walk past me, I turned to look at her, my expression open and honest.

"Don't worry, I won't push her too hard. If I may ask, could you contact one of her relatives for me please? A niece, her name is Sharon. I have some matters to discuss with Mrs. Carter for which I believe it would be only prudent to have a member of her family in attendance."

' _There Fury, I just gave you an easy in. Are you going to take it, or will you realize that I_ _ **want**_ _you to send Sharon and throw me off by sending someone else as a test? We'll see. Better not disappoint Nick. The game has only yet begun.'_

The nurse gave me a narrowed-eyed look, before giving a curt nod, making her way further into the house, presumably towards a phone instead of, say, a silenced pistol or something (not that it would really do much to me, but it would surely put a damper on negotiations).

Turning back towards Peggy, I gave her my most convincing smile as I slowly take a seat next to her bed, careful not to crush the wood underneath my weight.

"My, you're a big one, aren't you?" Peggy says with a chuckle, and there's this small spark, hidden in her eyes as she says it, some remains of the legendary spy coming back to the surface as she tries to analyse me.

"I suppose I just ate my vegetables as kid, ma'am." I reply with a friendly smile, chuckling somewhat as the ninety year old woman somehow manages to pull off a half-decent 'are you shitting me right now?' look.

"All right, all right! I have a friend, who got into an… accident, which left him _really_ smart. I was a reed-thin, sickly young man, and I allowed my super smart friend to perform an experimental procedure on me. And I transformed from a tiny little guy into the hunk I am today."

The lie clearly sparks something in the murky mists of her remaining memory (just as it was supposed to do) as I see a light shine in her eyes as she struggles to sit up a little straighter in her bed.

"Steve…" she whispers in a heartbroken tone, and I can't quite stop myself from feeling pretty bad for both her and Steve right now.

"No Peggy, I'm not Steve. I'm… I'm _like_ Steve, do you understand?"

"You're… not Steve?"

"No Peggy, I'm not."

"Then… why are you here?"

The hopelessness in her voice almost makes me reconsider my actions, before I harden my resolve. I need Agent Carter fully back into the saddle in order to raise hell against Hydra before they find out I antagonized the Hand into waging war on them as I do _not_ fancy a two-front war. Besides, I'm doing her a favour. A life like this… was it really worth living?

Shaking myself from my dark thoughts, I lean in a little closer, a smile still firmly plastered on my face.

"Well, I want to help you, Agent Carter. An old enemy has returned, and I- no, the _world_ needs you right now. So, what do you say? Do you want to get better again and save the world with me?"

Sitting up a little straighter, she focuses her gaze on me with great effort, some clarity coming back into her eyes as my message slowly starts to sink in with her.

"You can make me better again? So I won't… so I won't forget all the time?" she asks me, clearly trying to insert her old fire into her voice, but it still comes out weak and feeble and despite my best efforts to remain stoic, it still succeeds in tugging at my heartstrings.

"Yeah. I can keep you from forgetting Peggy. If you help me against our old nemesis, then I promise you that you'll be all better again."

For a moment, she mulls over my offer, her eyes slowly sliding away from my face as they start to droop a little, before the old lady somehow manages to pull on a hidden reserve of willpower as she stares me straight in my softly glowing eyes.

"Who's the enemy?"

"Hydra."

The sight of her fury is a thing to behold.

* * *

I'm lying on the couch in the living room of the retirement home, my legs from the knees down dangling over one armrest, while my head is lolling over the other one. I'm idly tapping away on the holographic buttons projected by the sheet of transparent glass clutched in my hand.

One of the smaller projected screens in the top right corner showed a small map with a glowing dot moving along the streets. It showcased Jessica's position, as I had sent her out this morning in order to acquire Radcliffe, giving her Oliver to use.

In order to guarantee her safety while we waited for the Hand's inevitable opening move, I had her wear a (rather stylish) leather duster which was enhanced with the Burstein-treatment, though Potter had ended up calling it the Amber Armor, which had caught on with my other employees.

Of course, being the paranoid bastard that I was (what? You would be one too if you knew half the universe would end within the decade) I hadn't been content with just a piece of armour, so I had sent my chief of security along as well, an old army vet by the name of Jim Harper.

Harper was sent my way by Adrian Toomes when he figured out I was for real when I said I wanted to heal any cripples he wanted to recommend, and that I was actually capable of fulfilling that promise as well. Harper came back from a tour in Vietnam after the war ended, without his legs and pretty messed up in the head, and the cold shoulder he got when he got back home really didn't help matters any. In order to deal with it all, he resorted to drinking.

A lot.

Eventually, old, washed-up and broke, Harper realized that he needed to turn his life around before it was too late and he started attending counselling sessions led by Curtis Hoyle of all people. With a monumental amount of effort, Harper managed to clean up his act, but found it nearly impossible to get a job, since nobody wanted to hire an old man with a history of alcoholism and vagrancy, who was confined to a wheelchair.

Toomes did what he could for Harper (Toomes' dad grew up in the same neighbourhood as Harper or something, neither man really wanted to talk about it so I wasn't entirely sure), but life was still a daily struggle for the crippled veteran.

Until he met me.

The look he gave me when I gave him back his legs told me everything I ever needed to know about the man: from this moment until the day he died, I had his absolute loyalty. As such, Harper was one of the very few people that I employed that had received multiple enhancements (before I had everybody Brain Boosted yesterday evening, that is).

He had been enhanced with the Brain Booster, the Rejuvenation serum and the reverse-engineered Erskine formula, before I healed his legs with Extremis and gave him Amber Armour skin.

The combination of multiple enhancements and his amount of experience meant that he was one of the most capable and dangerous people under my control. The only way Jessica would be any safer other than with him would be if I personally went along with her, but I had too much to deal with here in New York, which meant that I couldn't just run off in order to recruit more mad scientists to my think tank.

Accompanying Jessica and Harper, was Sterns.

Why?

Well, in the words of my friend: "You're _mad_ if you think I will ever let someone else drive Oliver! Completely _mad_!"

So yeah, Sterns went off to find Radcliffe as well. I worried for his safety, since the fact that he had raw gamma energy coursing through his body (because for some reason, he was the only person alive who didn't need a primer in order to be enhanced by the radiation) meant that he was stuck with a similar problem as Jessica, so he couldn't be enhanced with either Extremis or Amber Armour either for now.

Still, Sterns assured me that between the upgrades he had given Oliver, and the careful changes he had made to his own genetic structure (he revealed to me that one of the changes he had made had ended up fusing his ribcage, so that instead of individual ribs, he now had segmented plates covering his vital organs), he would be fine for a few days at least, promising to return in time for the New Year's party which Jessica had forced me to promise I would throw for the employees of Titan Solutions.

Unfortunately, Sterns going off on what was essentially a side-quest meant that there was a delay on the Pym Particle research, but considering it was only by a few days to a week at best, it should still be concluded fast enough to keep Cross from giving me any trouble (meaning that it was unlikely that the somewhat unstable man would get impatient enough to pull his goo gun on me, which was one of the _very_ few things in this universe that could one-shot me).

A bigger screen which took up the bottom half of the holographic projection showed a newsfeed with Stark shaking hands with a downright _giddy_ looking spokesman from Nasa, right after the brilliant inventor revealed that he would be working with the space agency by using his repulsor technology, which would revolutionize spacefaring as we knew it.

As a response to the news I was watching, a smaller screen in the top left showed the email I was writing to Elon Musk (who I already knew existed in this universe, because I remembered seeing him in Iron Man 2 talking to Tony), with an offer to start up SpaceX a few years earlier than he originally would have.

Tony's move to use his repulsor technology for space craft was absolutely brilliant on his part (and I didn't mind giving out that praise, since it had been my plan as well. Stark just beat me to it), but I had an even bigger ace up my sleeve.

Sure, sending stuff up cheaper and easier was like finding the golden egg of spacefaring, but sending up an entire base shrunk to the size of a Lego set in just a single go was the golden goose instead.

Thanks Pym Particles!

Right as I hit send, I could hear the front door open, hurried footsteps storming inside.

' _Single person, walking in high heels. Judging by the time between the clicks of her heels and thus the distance she covers which each step, a woman of small build. Has a key. Meaning that it's probably-'_

Right at that moment a young woman storms into the room, her blonde hair swirling around her head in her haste, and I feel a grin coming to my face as I leisurely sit up on the couch, placing my glass phone into the pocket of my suit jacket.

"Hello there Sharon."

"Mr. McCole. Might I ask what you are doing here? I don't remember someone making an appointment to see my Aunt. She doesn't really take any visitors at the moment you see." Sharon said, her voice hard and straining within the limits of what can be considered polite, worry for her family member clearly visible in her expression.

' _It's been four minutes since I asked the nurse to call Sharon, meaning that she was either already in the vicinity, or was transported here by alternative means other than public transportation or by car, something_ _ **fast**_ _, like a quinjet or something. It's probably not the latter though, I think I would've heard that, which means that she certainly didn't come_ _ **after**_ _the nurse called her, it would've taken her longer to get here if that was the case. Flushed cheeks and slight sweat on her forehead means that she exerted herself, but not for long. So, were you already around here somewhere, keeping an eye on your Aunt, or did Fury have you transported here the moment he realized I was making my way towards Carter? Slightly hoarse voice, indicating a shouting match held very recently. Ah, I see now. You were probably already in the neighbourhood as part of the surveillance on your Aunt, and the moment that the nurse called, saying that I asked for you, Fury wanted to send someone else in order to test me. You disagreed and managed to argue until he conceded, which brings us to the here and now. But now for the million dollar question: are you wearing a wire or not?'_

It took maybe all of half a second for me to deduce that, my smile still firmly on my face as I fully straighten, chuckling at the wariness that enters Sharon's form without her even knowing it as she realized just how big I am compared to her.

"Ah yes. That's because I _haven't_ made an appointment, Miss Carter. I was simply in the neighbourhood and decided that, considering my vast amount of rather impressive abilities, it was only appropriate that I show some respect to one of our nation's greatest heroes." I say enthusiastically as I cross the living room with three great strides, placing my arm around her shoulders, which earns me an uneasy glare which I promptly ignore.

I can tell that she knows that what I'm saying is a load of bull, but she can't exactly call me out on it without pissing of a billionaire businessman and one of the more dangerous people on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s watch list.

So she grits her teeth and gives me a strained smile as I lead her towards Peggy's room. It's clear by her posture that she tries to hang back a bit, trying to delay me, but I hardly even notice her efforts as I just keep on walking, making sure that the harmless smile stays firmly plastered on my face.

"And just _how_ exactly were you planning on showing my Aunt respect, Mr. McCole?" Sharon asks with a firm voice, which is somewhat undermined as at this point I'm basically just shoving her forwards without any effort at all, still portraying a genial air of innocence.

"Oh, well nothing much really. Just something small, you know, nothing _really_ extravagant. So I was thinking about simply healing her Alzheimer's and reversing her age to restore her to the prime of her life."

 _That_ makes Sharon stumble, her eyes widening as she stares at me with a gaping mouth, and I can't keep myself form chuckling, a deep rumbling sound that's more reminiscent of a rockslide than a laugh.

' _Oh, that expression is_ _ **priceless**_ _. I'm almost hoping that you actually are wearing a wire, Sharon. God, the look on Fury's face when he finds out that I consider healing Alzheimer's or reversing age as something_ _ **small**_ _. No doubt it'll make him wonder just what I consider something big then.'_ I think to myself with a snort, before I school my expression again as we arrive at Peggy's room.

Sharon's eyes go from the still from of her Aunt to me with an accusing glare, but I assuage her worries as I gently push her into the big armchair next to the bed.

"She's just resting, Miss Carter. When I told her what I wanted to do for her, she got overwhelmed and requested that she was given some peace and quiet. I, of course, acquiesced and removed myself to the living room, where you found me."

The truth was that she got in such a fit when I told her that Hydra was still alive she tired herself out in her anger and just sort of… dozed off mid-rant. Of course, I wasn't going to tell Sharon that I basically upset her Aunt to the point that she lost consciousness, so this little white lie would do.

Especially since it seemed to work, as Sharon took one of Peggy's hands into her own, looking at the frail old woman with a soft, genuine smile on her face. Not taking her eyes off the aged founder of S.H.I.E.L.D., Sharon began talking to me, stroking the wrinkled skin of Peggy's hand with gentle movements of her thumb.

"Is it true? Can you really… can you really heal her? Keep her from forgetting all the time?"

By the tone she uses, and the look she has in her eyes, I can tell that it's not the spy in her that's asking about my abilities, but just a niece that wants the best for her favourite aunt. This was the reason that I asked for Sharon: I could've just gone ahead and made Peggy swole as fuck, but there would be all kinds of legal loopholes concerning consent that Fury would immediately throw at me in order to try and get me under his thumb (or at the very least somewhat indebted to S.H.I.E.L.D.) that it was easier to just do it this way.

If Peggy consented to trying experimental healing, and Sharon gave me permission to perform the "procedure" (for as much as sticking someone with a needle can be considered a procedure), then it would be a lot harder for Fury to leverage this into something he could use against me.

"Yes, I can really heal her. There are numerous people in my employ that have recovered from spinal injuries, head trauma and even lost limbs. My friend, Dr. Sterns, has in combination with a prestigious think tank created a serum that will counter the effects of Alzheimer's. Unfortunately, due to the aggressive deterioration as well as the delicate structure of the brain, Sterns was forced to work very carefully, and as such we have not yet been able to create a permanent cure. If I administer this, then it's very likely that your Aunt will eventually start suffering from the effects of Alzheimer's again. Luckily, another dose of the serum will reverse those symptoms as well."

"So she'll need shots for the rest of her life?"

" Unfortunately yes. At least, until Sterns manages to create a permanent cure, but at the moment, we're not really sure how long that would take."

"I see. These shots… how often would she need to take them and how expensive are they?"

"Well, once a decade, though that's somewhat conservative. And free of charge."

At that, Sharon's head whips around to me, her eyes wide while her mouth is agape, causing me to chuckle once again. Then Sharon's eyes narrow suspiciously and I can tell that the concerned niece is gone, replaced by the S.H.I.E.L.D. spy.

"Why? Why are you doing this? Why are you offering to heal her, and for free at that? What is it that you're trying to get out of this?"

I raise my hands in a placating gesture, trying to subtly retake control of the conversation. I don't really _need_ Sharon's approval, but things will go so much smoother if she does, so I'll play along.

For now.

"Like I said, I feel that in recognition of what we as a society all owe her, this is just something I should do, not only as an upstanding citizen, but as a decent human being as well. And considering both my capabilities and my resources, healing one woman is something that I'm perfectly capable of doing without needing to be compensated for it." I say softly, forcing my tone to remain calm and confident.

I can see Sharon's conviction's waver, her personal love for her family warring with her professional attitude as a spy who's clearly uncomfortable with letting someone on S.H.I.E.L.D.S.' watch list have their way with someone so closely tied to the very roots of their organization. I just need to give her a little push in order to get her over the tipping point, and then I'll basically have my own Hydra-hunting dog.

Leaning forwards a bit, folding my hands as I dim the glow in my eyes to the lowest they'll go, I gaze at Sharon with all the sincerity I can fake (which, considering I followed an acting workshop online on a lazy Sunday only a few weeks back, is _a lot_ of sincerity).

"Look, Sharon. I'm going to be honest with you here. I meant what I said: the whole world owes Peggy Carter a debt. That's not just something I'm saying in order for you to trust me, it's something I believe from the bottom of my heart. It's not just her personally, it's also her legacy, how even now we feel the effects of her great deeds. Who knows what the world would look like without S.H.I.E.L.D.? And yet, all that she's given in recognition of that fact is a single paragraph in the Smithsonian. She deserves _better_ than this Sharon, Peggy deserves _more_ than just being forgotten, all the while forgetting everything herself. Don't you want her to look at you with clarity again? To have her hold you in her arms, and to remember what you told her the week before? To walk and dance and laugh as if she's in the prime of her life again, instead of lying in bed all day? Don't you want your Aunt to _live_ again Sharon?"

Tears are flowing down the spy's cheeks as she keeps on staring at the sleeping face of her Aunt during my passionate speech, before she slowly turns to look at me. I can practically see the last shreds of her guard fall away, as she makes her decision.

"Please. Please Mr. McCole. _Heal_ her."

Reaching over the bed, I place my enormous hand on top of Sharon's and Peggy's intertwined ones, giving a gentle squeeze as I allow a reassuring grin to grow on my face.

"I will."

And with that, I reach in the inner pockets of my suit jacket, retrieving three syringes. One is filled with a watered down Rejuvenation serum, focused more on just strengthening the body, while the second has the full-strength Rejuvenation serum, focused entirely on repairing the body to the healthiest state it can be or ever has been. A component extracted from the Extremis virus, for Killian this had meant the curing of his deformities.

For Peggy, it would mean the "curing" of the wear and tear of her aged body.

The reason I would use the watered down version first, was solely because I needed Peggy as strong as she could currently be, if she wanted to survive the stress the second serum would apply to her frail body. Yes, the end result of the serum would leave her in the prime of her life, but such a massive change had to start from somewhere, and I couldn't risk the stress of such an extensive transformation killing her.

The third serum was the Alzheimer Cure, which I would apply right before injecting Peggy with the second serum, since I didn't quite know yet what the Extremis-derived cure would do with the elderly woman's damaged brain (I mean, we had _theories_ , but it isn't like we really had any empirical data we could use to back those theories up), and just how it would try to fix it. Better to just have it healed before that even had a chance of becoming an issue altogether.

Sharon's eyes light up with interest the moment she spots the syringes, but she remains silent, having made her decision and sticking with it, apprehension and curiosity warring on her face.

"Peggy? Peggy, wake up please. I'm going to heal you now. I'm going to stop you from forgetting all the time."

Slowly, the old woman opens her eyes, her eyelids remaining droopy as she slowly looks from me to Sharon. Upon seeing her niece, her expression softens, a tired smile growing on her face.

"Oh Amanda, how nice of you to finally visit!"

I shoot Sharon a confused look, and with pain in her eyes, she mouths 'my mother' to me. Giving an understanding nod, I back off a bit as Sharon leans closer to her Great Aunt, giving a reassuring smile as she softly brushes Peggy's silver hair.

"No Peggy, it's me, Sharon."

Peggy's brows furrow for just a second in confusion, before her expression lightens up, a small laugh coming from the elderly woman.

"Sharon my dear! How lovely to see you again! Lovely! And… who is he?" Carter asks with a loud whisper as she points in my direction, getting amused snorts from both me and Sharon.

"That's Mr. McCole, Auntie. He's here to make you better again."

"Really?"

"Yes Auntie, really. It's just that… his cures are still very experimental. I've given my permission for him to try them anyway, but I'd still like for you to give your consent if you want. Or not, of course. If you don't want it then that's fine too."

Peggy gives a thoughtful frown, before she peers closely at me again. It's only because I'm paying such close attention to her that I can spot the spark that suddenly fires up in the old woman's eyes, before it's quickly hidden again by a vacant stare, her expression having not twitched so much as muscle.

Still, it's enough for me to know what's going on, and I try my hardest to keep my grin hidden from Sharon.

Because I'm fairly certain that Peggy has just remembered me and the conversation we had not so long ago. And she caught on quickly enough to keep it hidden from Sharon, who works for S.H.I.E.L.D., the agency which I told her was compromised by Hydra itself, without even betraying a sliver of emotion.

Say what you want about Peggy Carter, but even at age ninety, the frail superspy still had it.

"All right dear. If it can keep me from forgetting all the time, then I'm even willing to try this… _weed_ , that's all the rage these days. I'm quite curious actually. It sounds like fun!"

Sharon can barely keep her laugh contained, even as I let out a booming chuckle of my own, before getting down to business. I can almost taste Hydra's panic as I prepare to bring back one of their greatest enemies back out of retirement.

"Right Mrs. Carter, let's get started right away, shall we? I will first apply this serum to you, it is just something basic that boosts your health so that you are as healthy as you can possibly be at the moment. This is just a matter of precaution, a stepping stone for the more powerful serums, if you like to think about it that way. Ready? Here we go!" and in one fluid movement I take the cap off the syringe, place the needle against the vein in Peggy's arm, and administer the first serum so fast it leaves Sharon and her Aunt blinking in surprise.

Sharon opens her mouth, but my supernaturally smooth movements are ahead of her, already in motion as I take the second syringe and remove the cap, while on the bed, Peggy is visibly growing healthier by the second, her cheeks which were sunken in now full and healthy, her feeble arms filled with some muscle again.

In the stunned silence that follows as both women look on as the ninety year old lady proceeds to look better and better, I start the prep work for the second injection, removing the now empty syringe from Peggy's arm (now with far less wrinkles and with some meat on those bones for the first time in decades), placing the needle of the second one against the back of her neck, gently moving her head a bit to the side in order to reach her spine.

"Now then, Mrs. Carter, this one will sting a bit as I need to administer this serum directly to your nervous system. The serum will use the connection between the nerves and the brain to directly affect both the hindbrain as well as the pair of cortex. These shall then start the process of reversing the effects of the Alzheimer's disease. Unfortunately, while the remaining tissue will be revitalized, parts of your brain shall have to be remade from scratch and as such, they shall lack the ingrained paths of your original synapses. Some gaps in your memories are to be expected, but there's a high chance that your muscle memory shall remain unaffected, which means that you might keep all of your previous skills, though of course they'll be somewhat rusty. And done!" I keep on talking in a steady murmur in order to keep both women calm, much like a paediatrician keeps talking to kids in order to distract them from the scary needle that he's simultaneously jabbing into their arm.

Peggy gives a startled blink at the piercing feeling of the needle, but as expected of the badass lady, she doesn't give a peep, even as Sharon gives her a worried look, which only increases as her Aunt suddenly winces, squeezing her eyes shut as if suffering from an enormous headache.

"Auntie! Are you all right?!"

"I'm f-fine dear… i-it just… h-hurts a bit…" Peggy says through gritted teeth, causing her niece to whirl around to face me with a stormy expression, but I cut her off before she can really get started as I take the last syringe.

"Not to worry ladies, this is simply a side-effect of the revitalization of Mrs. Carter brain. During the process itself, you might feel as if you are suffering from a migraine, and after the process has been completed, you'll probably have a mild to severe headache for a day or two. I must urge you to _not_ take any meds against the discomfort, no matter how overbearing it gets. Your brain is one of the most delicate organs in your body, and is currently undergoing a massive transformation, any medication has a chance of negatively affecting this change."

The only reason why I was administrating these serums here and now was because I knew that Peggy currently wasn't on any meds, just a few fluids that were very unlikely to have any effect whatsoever. I was fairly sure that most drugs at this point wouldn't really have that much of an effect either since most of the changes were made to her DNA, but that didn't mean that what I said wasn't true. The brain is _extremely_ delicate, and there's always a chance of things going wrong, so I'm not taking any risks.

"Right then, with those two serums in place and coming along nicely, it's time for the last one. This one goes into the bloodstream, so Mrs. Carter, if you would give me your arm please, thank you. And there we go, this serum will restore you to your body's prime condition, meaning that you will appear as you were at the age that you were at your physical peak, with the physique to match. Of course, from then on you'll age normally again, but the results should be _very_ impressive nonetheless."

And as I retract the needle, my words prove true, going by the shocked gasp of Sharon, who flies out of her chair in moments, her back slamming into the opposite wall as she stares at her Aunt, who herself is staring at her hands in wonder.

Remember that scene in the second Lord of the Rings movie, where Gandalf drives Saruman from Théoden of Rohan? You know, the one where he goes from ancient, decrepit looking corpse to a healthy middle-aged guy in the span of seconds.

Yeah, try to take that image and then apply it to the old lady you saw talking to Steve in the movie.

Not gonna lie, I felt incredibly pleased with myself as I took in the change happening in front of my eyes. Peggy's form visibly swelled up with muscles, the wrinkles in her skin disappearing as if some higher being simply took an eraser and smoothed them away without any effort. Her liver spots simply faded into non-existence, while colour returned to the woman's cheeks, her eyes, even her hair!

Sitting up straight in her bed without any effort, Peggy watches on with wide, clear eyes, as her hands become as smooth as they were when she was in her twenties, the wrinkles and spots and arthritis gone completely as if they had never been there before.

"Auntie?"

Her head snapping up sharply at the soft whisper, Peggy's eyes (which had been watery and droopy ever since I saw her) homed in on her niece in a flash, clear and alert.

"Sharon?"

Even her voice has changed. Gone is the feeble tone, the slight croak in the back of her throat. It's the voice of a strong woman, not only used to having her words heard by all, but followed immediately as well.

Slowly, Sharon, looking completely gobsmacked, approached her Aunt, who instead of looking her ninety years, looked exactly as she did during World War 2. While there's an age difference of more than half a century between the two women, Peggy could now easily be mistaken as being Sharon's older sister or something.

The two clasp each other's hands in a mix of desperation and tentativeness, as if they're afraid that if they _don't_ touch what they see, it might turn out to be an illusion, but also afraid that if they _do_ touch what they see, then it might shatter and come to an end.

However, after a few moments of holding hands and staring at each other with tear-filled eyes, the reality of the situation slowly starts to sink in with the two women and with a choked sob of happiness, Sharon throws her arms around her Great Aunt, who easily returns the gesture with equal vigour.

Despite the fact that I've orchestrated this mostly for my own benefit, I can't help but feel the a glow of satisfaction in my chest as I look at the heart-warming scene for a moment, before I slowly rise from my chair.

Peggy's eyes snap towards me at the slightest hint of my movement, but Sharon is still bawling her eyes out as she's holding her cured family member. Giving a soft shake from my head, I reach inside my pocket as I soundlessly mouth 'later' to Peggy, getting a tiny nod in return as I place my business card on the cabinet in her room.

On the front of the card, in a neat, business-like font was my contact information listed, with the address of Titan Solutions headquarters.

On the _back_ of the card was the address of a certain gym, which would be frequented by a mutual acquaintance of ours…

I extrapolated its location due to the fact that the diner Steve ends up in was close to his Safe House, and also close enough that it was in direct view of Stark Tower. All I had to do from there was Google gyms in the immediate vicinity, and then look for the oldest ones still in use.

Leaving the women to celebrate the newly regained health of Peggy Carter, I make my way downstairs with a smile, before the glass plate in my pocket unexpectedly gives of a sharp alarm.

' _Huh? I didn't have anything else planned for today, so why would anyone need to call me? Don't tell me that they need me to be the tie-breaker in order to decide which type of pizza we'll end up ordering tonight,_ _ **again**_ _. I'm so tired of that, no matter what I decide we just end up going with pepperoni every time anyways!'_

Continuing to exit the retirement home, throwing an absent wave to the nurse as I do, I start walking back towards the warehouse at a leisurely pace, snow crunching underneath my feet, as I activate the holographic screen of my phone.

"Yes, Michael here, what's-"

"MICHAEL! YOU NEED TO GET BACK HERE _NOW_!"

I'm taken completely off-guard when I see the panicked face of Mason fill the screen, the sounds of screaming and thunderous crashes ringing through the phone, causing people on the street to turn in my direction with questioning looks, while I feel as if ice is slowly being poured into my veins.

"Phineas, what-"

"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK! I DON'T KNOW WHO OR WHY, BUT THEY HAVE WEAPONS, MICHAEL, _ADVANCED_ ONES!"

Without me even realizing it, I've started running towards the warehouse, my feet slamming against the pavement with the sound of jackhammers as I run at my top speed, swerving around bystanders with only the minimal amount of margins, the Heart Shaped Herbs in my body working overtime in order to keep me from just bulldozing over other pedestrians as I'm easily clocking in at highway speeds.

"What do you mean, advanced ones!?"

"ADVANCED AS IN _WE DON'T HAVE A FUCKING FRONT WALL ANYMORE_!" Mason screams in panic, and a low growl starts to form in my chest as I pour on even more speed, the desperate need to get to my people fuelling my movements to even greater heights.

I can see bright flashes in the background, while the rest of the warehouse seems to be on fire. It looks like Mason is lying low behind an upturned desk, but even enlarging the holographic screen to the size of my torso doesn't allow me to make out any details in the total chaos going on.

"Phineas! Try to stay low! I'm coming! You hear me, Phineas!? I'm on my way!"

"JUST GET HERE, WE'RE –urghk!"

Suddenly, Mason's face goes off-screen as the screen itself starts spinning out of control, before it comes to a stop on the floor, several cracks showing as I'm treated to an image of where the front of my building used to be. Instead, there's a massive hole in it, from the bottom floor all the way to the roof. Through the hole I can see the street, where a small column of taxi's and limousines are parked.

People are hiding behind the cars and mercilessly opening fire on the warehouse with what appears to be heavy-calibre weaponry, as brick and mortar explode in showers of dust at every shot they take.

I can only look on in helpless anger as I see one of the people in my security force with the Amber Armour enhancement (' _Will Driver, age 35, a friend of Toomes. Resorted to drug abuse after a charge got killed on his watch, ended up in jail. Reformed and clean for six years, but due to being an ex-convict got refused from every security agency he applied for. Likes teriyaki and is one hell of a blackjack player.')_ stand up with a desk in his hands, trying to provide cover for two colleagues who had the Extremis enhancement and are trying to crawl away from battle, both having several limbs blown clean off, which would still take a little while to regenerate, leaving them vulnerable for follow-up attacks.

One of the attackers let out a shout, pointed a massive cannon with various glowing parts in Will's direction and opened fire, the muzzle of his gun lighting up with a hauntingly familiar purple hue.

The desk splinters into a million pieces, and Will is picked up like a ragdoll, thrown clear into the warehouse, landing with a wet smack only a couple of feet away from where Mason dropped his phone.

He isn't getting up.

Rage comes roaring to life inside me as the glass plate melts in my hand, hatred that I haven't felt ever since my acid trip to the Astral Plane where I was confronted with my baser instincts filling my burning veins.

The personification of my darker instincts, which I had accepted as being a part of me, rather than something artificially created by the multitude of enhancements within me, made its presence known again, but this time, instead of feeling as if I need to fight the heat inside me lest it burns my world to ash, it now feels as if we are one, working in tandem.

It wants to see those scumbags who _dared_ to attack my people _**BURN**_ , just as much as I do.

I don't even notice the snow melting around me in a sphere several feet in diameter, leaving sloshing water running off the sidewalk behind me as I take to the rooftop of the building next to me in a mighty leap, leaving cracked pavement in my wake, my suit burning up around my form as I keep getting angrier, and therefore, hotter as well.

Due to my immense speed, combined with the ability to travel in a mostly straight line, it takes only a couple of minutes to get close enough to hear the thunderous gunfire, as well as see the glow from the burning warehouse.

It takes another minute before I'm close enough that I'm looking over the scene, spotting the line of attackers, hidden safely behind their cars (though a few have been reduced to burning wrecks already) as they keep their heavy fire on the building, where I can see my security force of mostly Amber Armor enhanced individuals trying to evacuate their more vulnerable friends from the battle field, unable to launch an effective counterattack due to the combined fire of their enemies and the burning warehouse around them (they can withstand the flames, but even they still need to breath, and currently there's more smoke than oxygen in the ravaged building).

I can see several of the attackers break off from the main group as they set up a shallow perimeter at the head and tail of the column, opening fire on both ends of the street, where black SUV's are intermingled with police cars, the NYPD working together with the various spy agencies that were casing the warehouse in order to keep the fighting contained.

They're still losing, as I spot one of the attackers point an enormous hand cannon over the hood of the taxi he's hiding behind and squeeze the trigger once.

At the end of the street, the door of a police cruiser is torn clean off, sending the people taking cover behind it in panicked disarray.

But even as I take all of these events in with just a quick glance, there's one thing that immediately draws my eye, and my suit explodes in a great ball of fire as the heat of my body skyrockets, showing off my towering form and raised skeleton to the world.

Because I can see the broken forms of some of my people lying in front of the warehouse.

And they aren't moving.

A roar rings out over the battlefield, rattling windows of buildings and cars alike, forcing a short lull in the pitched gunfight as people exchange frightened looks at the monstrous sound.

It takes me a few moments to realize that the sound came from me, but by then I'm already moving, having jumped from the roof I was standing on towards the street below me, my entire form wreathed in flame.

I crash onto the roof of the taxi in the middle of the column, its frame crumpling into unrecognizable wreckage under my impact, fire rolling off my form in waves. The attackers whirl towards me, fear visible in their eyes as they raise their futuristic weapons towards me with trembling hands, ready to open fire-

 **BTTOOOOMMM!**

-right as the car underneath me explodes due to the heat I'm giving off setting the gas inside its fuel tank alight, throwing the would be attackers to the ground, and spraying shrapnel in all directions, forcing the nearest **scumbags** back with shouts of pain and alarm.

I of course, remain completely unharmed, slowly straightening to my full height as I stand in the burning wreckage of one of their vehicles, my burning eyes slowly tracking across their trembling forms.

Then my head is suddenly jerked to the side, right after which a loud bang reaches my ears, and my rage continues to grow even further. Whirling in the direction the shot came from, I see a man lying on the ground with what can only be described as a sci-fi heavy rifle clutched in his arms.

He stares up at my burning form with what can is clearly a mixture of absolute terror and complete confusion.

I don't care.

With a roar tearing from my throat, I rush towards him in the blink of an eye, ripping the twisted frame of the car wreck I'm standing in apart like wet tissue paper without even noticing. My speed turns out to be too great for any of them to react to: before my attacker can really do anything other than scream, I'm upon him, my fist descending towards his head.

The crash is enormous, the street buckles underneath the impact of my strike, heat once again blasts away from my skin and the man's head is…

Well, it's _gone_.

I pick up the sound of retching coming from behind me, but that darker part of me pushes my body forwards, utterly unconcerned with the reactions of the people around us, willing only for them to **burn**.

And I'm completely on board with that.

Harsh impacts keep slamming into my body, much like one of Jessica's punches, and while painless to me, it makes me understand why these soon to be **dead** men are capable of hurting my people if they're coordinated enough to concentrate their fire, but I push through it, whatever little damage they manage to inflict healed in mere seconds.

Once again, my sheer speed proves itself too great for these **scumbags** , and my hands sink into the soft metal of the hood of the closest limo. With a roar and a heave, I lift the vehicle straight off the ground, before bringing it around in a wide arc, smashing it into the three guys that had been taking cover behind it.

One of them is reduced to paste, the other two are thrown several dozen feet away, coming back down in **pathetic** bags of broken bones and meat, but I don't even bother to really pay any attention to them, already moving forwards towards my next **prey**.

One of the attackers at the back of the column takes one look at my demonic form and promptly decided to make his getaway, proving himself to be the smartest of the bunch with that single action.

Unfortunately for him, I don't intend for _any_ of these **fleshbags** to get out of this alive.

Lifting the mangled wreck of the limo above my head, I take a massive leap towards the guy's car, clearing three others in a single jump. The attacker has just long enough to stare up at my descending form with an expression of mind-numbing horror, before I slam my improvised bat into his car, pushing it _into_ the pavement, the shockwave my attack produces proving enough to send the two closest guys to the ground.

Annoyingly loud bangs sound behind me, and I feel numerous impacts all over my hunched back, as if there are a dozen Jessica's lightly punching me from behind. Turning around to face them fully, I can see a small squad of **assholes** standing clustered together, each of them holding a heavy looking rifle and opening up a continuous stream of fire.

I can see fear rise in their eyes as I don't buckle under their onslaught, as instead, the fiery pits that are my eyes increase in intensity as I glare at them while their shots slam into my unbreakable skin, shredding what few scraps remained of my shirt.

And all that I can think of through the intense haze of hatred that roars in my ears is a single, strangely lucid thought.

' _Fuckin'_ _ **mortals**_ _shouldn't have stood so close together. Idiots.'_

And with that, even as my attackers keep on firing, I take an immense breath, before I spew a veritable tidal wave of fire at them, and the next two cars behind them as well. There's a brief cacophony of screams as they and their allies burn alive, before there's two subsequent explosions, which quickly silence the death throes of these foolish attackers.

There had been a total of eight cars during my initial assault (disregarding the two burned out husks which my people had already taken care of), with roughly four men to each car. I had crushed one during my arrival, had used a second one to completely flatten a third one, and had just set two more alight.

This left one car behind me, and the two forming a barricade against the police and various agencies at the other end of the column.

Already I could make out three people hurriedly getting in one of those cars (the other seemed to be non-functional due to being liberally peppered with gunfire to the point all of its tires were flat), obviously willing to take their chances with the police, rather than with me.

' _NO! I can't let those fucking_ _ **meatbags**_ _get away! They will_ _ **burn**_ _for this!'_

With an angered growl, I dash towards the car behind me, snatching a guy that didn't manage to get out of my reach fast enough by the head. Not breaking my stride, even as I feel weapon fire slam into my body, I raise the fool above my head, ignoring his screams of pain as I burn his face off, before slamming him into the ground with enough strength to create a crater.

His cries end immediately.

The last car in the column was placed sideways on the street, forming an impromptu defence against the handful of cops at the intersection only a couple of dozen feet away, with the driver's side towards me.

One of the attackers jumps through the open door, desperately turning the key in the ignition, but the engine keeps stalling. He has enough time left before I reach him for another two frantic tries, before he turns to look at me with tears flowing down his face.

I think I can see his lips form the words 'please' but I don't bother to pay enough attention to really care, instead just tucking in my head as I tilt my shoulder forwards, right before I slam into the car, it's frame buckling around my body as I tackle it hard enough to produce a thunder-clap.

My momentum it so massive, the car is shoved back ten feet, nearly tipping over completely, the driver's side virtually non-existent now, nothing more than a smouldering wreck as if it was just T-boned by a truck on fire.

In a way, it was.

Acting before the car can crash back down again, I step forwards, ramming my hands in its underbelly, before I give another heave, and lift the entire thing above my head.

Giving a roar that can be heard at the other end of the column (my attack had taken all of three seconds, meaning that they were still trying to get in the car), it's terrifying enough that it halts all movement there as I can see **scumbags** turn in my direction in fear.

Building up a bit of momentum, I make a short dash forwards, before heaving with all my might, throwing the car in my hands clear over the rest of the column. The **thugs** have just enough time to scramble out of the way, before my impromptu missile slams into their getaway vehicle, carrying it nearly all the way towards where the NYPD is holed up in a great shower of sparks and the wail of tortured metal, all of them looking at me in clear shock.

A **satisfying** scream tells me that at least one of the **mortals** wasn't quite quick enough to get out of the way of my attack, having lost a leg and losing massive amounts of blood from the grisly wound. He's dead already, if he doesn't receive immediately medical attention.

 **He won't**.

I haven't been idle during my previous attack, shooting towards one of the remaining attackers (they started at roughly thirty, they were now down to less than half that), punching him in the chest so hard that he appears as a blur as he slams into the building on the opposite side of the street.

Bursting towards two more **meatbags** I perform a sweeping kick on one, nearly separating his torso from his legs as I send his corpse sailing down the street, while I cut another nearly in half by heating up my hand until it's a blinding white-hot colour, steam and flames roiling off of it in waves.

I'm closing in on another **human** , my glowing hands high above my head in a superheated double hammer blow, the baseline below me cowering in fear as he looks up at me with tear-filled eyes-

"Eat this freak!"

-before a blasts slams into my face, jerking it to the side in a harsh movement of immense force. This blow is different from the other ones.

I actually felt this one.

Turning my head towards where the sudden blast came from, feeling another slam into my chest with enough strength to force me back half a step, I spot a burly man with what can only be considered a cannon in his arms.

' _The guy that took out Will. That's the guy who_ _ **took out Will! I'LL BURN HIM TO ASHES!**_ _'_

Tarmac melts and buckles underneath my feet as I sprint towards him, vaulting over the burning remains of one of their cars in a single smooth movement, but a massive blast slams into my chest, and due to being in mid-air (meaning I don't have anything to brace against) it forces me _into_ the wreckage of the vehicle.

I immediately try to get up, but get blasted by another cannon shot to the face, and due to lacking anything stable to support myself with (the burned out frame of the car I'm half-lying in buckles each time I try to put some force on it) I get shoved back again.

Then a continuous stream of impacts comes from my left side (one of the remaining guys picking up a heavy rifle from what I can tell from the corner of my vision), but as I turn towards him with a growl, yet another canon shot impacts me, forcing me back, quickly followed by a second, and then a third.

Two more streams of fire join the first one, and though they don't do too much damage to me, they have enough force to limit my movements, especially since every time that it appears that I'm about to work myself to a standing position, a canon shot slams into my face, or one of my knees.

I'm still pretty much unharmed, other than a ringing in my ears and some spots in my vision due to the repeated canon shots to the face (the **bastard** has been steadily closing in too, making each shot more powerful than the last), but it appears I'm pinned down under the onslaught of their heavy weaponry.

The very notion of these **meatbags** being able to hold down someone like me, as if they're greater than _me_ , just makes me even angrier, and as yet another canon shot slams into my knee, making it buckle underneath me, at the same time that two streams of gunfire concentrate on my right eye, reducing it to pulp, I've had _enough_.

The roar I utter is loud enough that it forces the guy closest to me to drop his heavy rifle as he clasps his hands over his ears, as the heat coming from by body is great enough that I'm standing in what appears to be a small pool of lava, the tarmac having long since melted, the burned out remains of the car wreck behind and underneath me being reduced to a glowing hunk of burning metal.

The air becomes unbearably hot, forcing my attackers back by several feet, despite the careful distance they have kept so far. At this point, it's not just my hands that are glowing white-hot, it's my entire body, forcing them to squint they're eyes as they look away from the glaring light I'm giving off.

Unfortunately for them, this also means that they have stopped firing.

The moment the two **mortals** to my right have realized this fact, they're already dead, my glowing hands ploughing straight through their chests, my burning body leaving a bright after image and melted tarmac in my wake.

Lifting the corpses stuck on my arms, which are being immolated from the inside out, I twist towards the sole guy behind me, the one that dropped his heavy rifle. He makes a dive for his weapon right as I throw the first corpse, which clips him in the shoulder.

Other than a shout of pain and panic at being hit by the burning **object** , he continues his roll, coming up on one knee, aiming down his sight at me right as I throw the second corpse, this one on a straight collision course with him.

To his credit, he immediately opens fire, which takes out a huge chunk of the corpse's torso while sending it veering way off course. He next aims his weapon on me again, but this time, I'm not pinned down.

He manages to get off three shots, two which impact my raised ribcage, and one which strikes me in my regenerating eye, which hurts like hell. But it hasn't slowed down my charge towards him at all, and all I see is the slight, disbelieving widening of the eyes in the face of inevitable death, before a sweeping, superheated kick takes his head clean off.

Hearing movement behind me, I half-turn, my burning eye looking over my shoulder as it pins the man with the cannon in place. His face is ashen with terror, and I can see a dark stain in the front of his pants, but he still raises his weapon towards me.

"STAY BACK! STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, DEMON! I'LL BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF, I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL! DON'T YOU FUCKING COME NEAR ME! YOU HEAR?!"

The idea that this… _this…_ _ **this mortal**_ thought he could tell me what to do, after he attacks _my_ company, assaults _my_ people, hurts _my_ friends?! He'll **burn**!

Turning to fully face him, I absently feel a dark grin forming on my face as I slowly approach him, with him backing away from me in tandem with my steps. He lets out an inarticulate scream, fuelled by rage and despair, by anger as much as fear, and starts firing wildly at me.

In his panicked haze however, his accuracy is severely reduced, and this time he doesn't have the luck of catching me in mid-air. Most of his shots go wide. Those that don't, I'm capable of dodging, merely by moving my head to the side, or by twisting my torso out of the way.

I'm less than ten feet away when he bumps into something.

Or rather, some _one_.

Towering behind him, blood splattered across his mouth from some internal wounds, stands Will Driver.

And he looks _pissed_.

Before either me or the attacker can react, Will slams his arms around the canon-wielder in a flash, trapping him in a bearhug. The attacker feebly tries to raise his weapon, before I see the muscles in Will's broad arms flex, and a loud 'crack' resounds across the battlefield, while the canon falls out of the man's now useless arms.

The man screams in pain, but Will just keeps on making the bearhug tighter and tighter, and after a series of more wet cracking noises, the screams come to an end as well.

Letting the still corpse fall to the ground, Will gives me a tired grin, showing his bloodied teeth, before his eyes roll into the back of his head and he collapses as well.

Looking around the fiery battlefield, I can see that the remaining attackers (a grand total of five out of the original thirty or so, including the guy that lost his leg) are currently being… _taken care off_ by the remains of my security forces and some of the Extremis users.

Seeing that there are no more enemies/ **prey** to take care of, I fight down the raging inferno in my veins, which is surprisingly easy to do. I just chalk it up to the weirdness of the Astral Plane trip I undertook, before putting it out of my mind, instead dashing over to Will's fallen form.

To my relief, he's still breathing, but it's irregular and very shallow. Those with the Amber Armoured skin do have a healing factor, but it's nowhere near on the same level as the one that the Extremis enhanced possess. And internal injuries are _always_ dangerous for everyone, even regenerators.

Thankfully I can already hear sirens closing in fast, by my estimate they're only a few streets away, so at the very least Will shall receive some basic medical attention. His unbreakable skin means that the trauma surgeons will be limited in what they could do for him, but it's more than I could currently do for him out here on the burning street.

Making sure to gently place him on his side in order to avoid any choking hazards, I make my way inside, stopping by every fallen from of my people that I spot. Some of them are still breathing, in the case of the Extremis individuals even when missing multiple limbs or entire parts of their torso, and I do what little I can for them, but four people are beyond helping.

Three of them are… _were_ Extremis-enhanced, two of them, a man and woman, having worked construction with Toomes before the man lost an arm and the woman suffered from a spinal injury. The second man was an army vet who came back in a wheelchair and a body full of scars after he jumped on an IED in order to save his convoy.

They had been reduced to a grisly sight, clearly having suffered from multiple heavy-weapon attacks, judging by the pulped state of their remains.

The fourth loss was a man from my security team, who went by the name of Dave. Honestly, I didn't really know all that much more about him than that, but Adrian told me that he was a good guy, quiet and reliable. Given that he was lying outside, next to one of the car wrecks that were already on fire before I have even arrived, I now shared Adrian's beliefs of the man.

It wasn't entirely clear how he had died, but judging from the amount of blood that came from his mouth, eyes and ears, as well as the state of the asphalt surrounding his head, I think that at one point he was forced to the ground, and then they just kept on shooting at his head until the impacts damaged his brain enough to cause internal bleeding.

I hadn't been as close to these people as I was to my scientists or even Jessica, and I had mostly just recruited them from Adrian because I needed a loyal workforce that wouldn't ask too many questions while still being capable of standing up to the various dangers that the world had to offer.

That didn't mean I didn't _care_. Each and every single one of these people had suffered enough in their lives, through whatever circumstance. Joining up with Titan Solutions had in some cases been a literal life-saver, and despite them only working for me for about of month, some of them had quietly told me that they were currently happier than they had been in years.

And now four of them were dead, by the looks of it another dozen were pretty badly injured (though due to their healing factors everyone was expected to make a full recovery in time) and the survivors were traumatized.

Making my way further in the burned out husk that used to be Titan Solutions, I silently start moving rubble and aiding the survivors, continuing my grim work even as the firefighters arrive, most of them clad in leather Amber Armor. I wordlessly accept a wide cloak from one of them in order to cover myself up, but I keep working.

Thankfully, the decision of my security team to evacuate instead of entering the fray (and while there's not a doubt in my mind that they could've won, I can't help but be relieved that they had adhered to different priorities) had saved not only the lives of my employees by leading them out the back entrance, meaning we only found a few people still stuck in the burning building amongst the rubble, but also much of Titan Solution's data.

Sure, much of the paperwork and assignments were now reduced to ashes, but I had several black boxes as well as back-ups. Combined with the survival of my people, I could rebuild.

It would take time and a monumental amount of effort, but Titan Solutions would _survive_.

I'm ripped from my musings when I can hear some rubble shifting a couple of feet to my right, and in a precarious mix of haste and precaution (it wouldn't do to just go tearing away at the rubble with my superstrength, since that might cause a collapse, endangering any trapped people even further) I make my way over towards the pile of what appears to be the collapsed recreation room from the second floor, which has now fallen down onto the ground floor.

Steadily and carefully digging away at the rubble with my bare hands, sharp stone and jagged metal scraping against my skin to no avail, I manage to make some headway in the large pile, before my hearing picks up a voice from underneath the debris.

"Hello! This is Michael! Don't worry, I'm getting you out of there, all right?! Stay calm, I'm coming to get you!"

I keep yelling reassurances as I up my pace, tearing away at the rubble in order to get to whoever's trapped underneath, before I can make out their voice.

"M-Michael…"

"PHINEAS! Phineas, I'm coming, hold on! I'm almost there Phineas, stay with me all right?!"

Despite my enormous strength, fuelled by desperation as it is, it still takes well over five minutes to open a hole large enough to actually see one of my scientists, due to the care I need to take in order to not inadvertently cause a collapse which might kill my friend.

As I lay eyes on Phineas for the first time since yesterday (he came into work after I had left in order to heal Carter, which seems like a lifetime ago now) I'm struck by what I see.

The Tinkerer is leaning against a large block of concrete, his face gaunt with blood flowing from a cut above his brow, one of his legs trapped under what appears to be one part of an I-beam.

And cradled in his arms, is the unconscious form of Susan.

Seeing my look, Mason gives a weak chuckle, which transforms into a wet cough halfway through, causing me to immediately start digging again.

"She saved me you know. When we were attacked… she wanted to go out there and fight whoever was shooting at us, but then they just started… punching holes through the wall… she came back inside pretty hurt… Extremis kept her alive though… she was close to me when I called you but then… the roof came down, Michael, right on top of me… I thought I was gonna die…. Susan tackled me out of the way of the worst parts, but the beam… crushed my leg, trapped me… she stood over me, trying to bat the debris away with her body, but she's not very big… she got hit on the head by a piece of wall and was unconscious immediately… still breathing though… definitely ain't a quitter, this one…" Phineas raps, his speech fading in and out with his laboured breaths.

As his speech starts to peter out completely and his eyes start to droop, I begin yelling at him, redoubling my efforts to dig him out. Unfortunately, while the hole is large enough to just barely fit him through, it doesn't fit me, and I need to get closer to Phineas in order to get that I-beam off his leg.

"Phineas! _Phineas_! Don't go to sleep you hear me!? Keep talking! Come on, tell me what happened! Who attacked you?!"

"Dunno… was just minding my business… then we hear tires squealing… then _boom_ , there's a big-ass hole in our wall… what the hell did they do Michael? Did they bring a canon? It sounded like one…."

"In a way. Come on Phineas, keep talking, I can almost reach you!"

"Burstein's fine, by the way… saw him leading a group of people out the back… when I phoned you… didn't see him after though, cause I was… well, here….Michael, are those people gone now? Did we win?"

"Yeah, yeah I drove them off. They're gone now Phineas, we won. Look, I'm here now, okay? Let's get this piece of junk of your leg, and then get you and Susan some medical attention, what do you say?"

"I say… I say… that it was really fucking dumb to wait so long with the Amber Armour… did you know… Michael, did you know… that I was gonna ask Potter to perform… to perform… the procedure… today? Heh…"

"Phineas? Phineas! No, no, no, stay _awake_! Come _on_ you need to stay awake! Talk to me, come on, you _need_ to talk! Phineas! _Phineas_! PHINEAS!"

* * *

 **AN:** Because this isn't a Mary Sue fic, and as such shit can and will go wrong. Drastically. Originally, this chapter was going to be even longer. At the rate this story is going, I think we still have about two to three chapter to go until the Hand Arc is complete.

 **Fun Fact:** The Human Torch wasn't used in the '70s Fantastic Four cartoon because Universal Studios had licensed the character and blocked the use of him in the show, and not because the network was afraid children would light themselves on fire emulating the hero, as was apparently rumoured.

 _As always, I'd like to thank my Patrons, AndrewDC_MAC2, Thordur hrafn and Daniel Dorfman. Thanks so much for your support! To all my other lovely readers, should you feel that your wallet is getting too heavy to carry, then feel free to offload some of that money on me! =D or not, I'll still upload either way, so other than getting fancy stuff in return it doesn't really matter. =)_


	23. Interlude 4 - Aftermath Part I

**AN:** I had originally meant for this Interlude to be only one chapter, but it's getting way too massive, so I decided to cut it off at the halfway point and give you this part already. The other three POV's will come along either later this week or early next week.

* * *

 _ **Aftermath – Part I**_

* * *

 **30 Minutes after the Massacre**

The cacophony surrounding him was a sea of noise crashing futily against his ironclad composure as he made his way towards his target, broken tarmac crunching underneath his black combat boots, avoiding the still glowing patches of road and the occasional burnt-out car wreck as he went.

Thankfully the bodies had already been removed from the scene, so he didn't need to step over corpses in order to reach his goal this time.

Not that he really had a problem with that (after all, he had been forced to do it often enough in his long career), but leaving roughly thirty bodies lying in the open, right in view of the army of journalists that were barely held at bay by the police cordons, was something that he'd rather do without.

As he got closer to the ruin that had only this morning been the headquarters of Titan Solutions, he was forced to steel himself as the smoking remains were still giving off waves of heat.

Even inside their indestructible new leather uniforms, the firemen clearing the rubble were still sweating bullets as they slowly made their way through the burnt out remains, dousing hotspots as they went.

He felt an odd sort of kinship with them, feeling as if he too just was walking around from one fire to the next, putting them out as quickly as he could, but every time he turned around he found that something else was set ablaze in the meantime.

Hopefully, if he could leverage this conversation the way he wanted to, then he could at least enforce _some_ measure of control on the one responsible for quite a few of those fires (though his experiences with Tony Stark told him not to get his hopes up).

He had gotten close enough to his target now that he could see that the man was talking to someone on what appeared to be a holographic communicator. It took a few moments before he recognized the person on the other end, but then again, until just now he had thought she still had both eyes.

"Jeri, I promise I'll come by as soon as I can, all right? For now, please just stay put, don't go home. If the assassin was bold enough to attack you at work, then he'll definitely be bold enough to attack you in your home as well. At least at work, you'll be out in the open, making it more difficult for him to strike again. I'll send two body guards over right away, all right?"

Hogarth, her right eye held closed while that side of her face was splattered with blood, clearly didn't like to be ordered to stay out in the open after what appeared to be a failed attempt on her life (and damn it all, he already had enough on his place without worrying about assassinations as well), but she gave a curt nod nonetheless.

She opened her mouth to speak, but right at that moment some gravel crunched underneath his boot and he saw his target stiffen.

"I've got to go now, Jeri. Just trust me, okay? It'll be all right, I'm gonna make _sure_ of it."

"Fine. Stay safe."

"You too."

And with that, the connection was cut, and his target stood up from the small pile of rubble he had been sitting on, turning around as he slipped the plate of glass in the pocket of the leather duster he wore, along with a dirtied pair of cargo pants.

Burning eyes analysed him in a flash, increasing in intensity just the slightest amount as recognition became clear in them.

 _'Interesting. How come that you know what I look like, Michael McCole?'_

The CEO of Titan Solutions crossed his beefy arms in front of his massive chest (hiding much of his _interesting_ ribcage from view as he did), glaring down at him with a look that clearly showed just how pissed off the behemoth truly was.

It was probably only the lack of any enemies around that kept the man from literally spitting fire right now, but just because he wasn't setting things alight at the moment didn't mean that he was any less enraged than he had been during the Massacre.

He was just keeping a lid on his anger.

For now.

"And what can I do for you? As you can see, I'm very busy at the moment." Came the rumbling bass of the Enhanced, his glowing eyes burning just a tad brighter as he spoke.

Pressing his lips together in a frim line, Nicholas Fury clasped his hands behind his back as he stared McCole straight in his eyes with his own, interest rising within him when he noticed that while the man clearly became a bit uncomfortable, he didn't look away from the Director's piercing gaze.

There weren't very many people in the world capable of that.

"Unfortunately, I think you'll _have_ to make some time for me, Mr. McCole. This conversation has been coming for a long time now, but _you've_ turned out to be a _very_ difficult man to get a hold of."

"You can look up the visiting hours of Titan Solutions online. If you want to schedule a meeting with me personally, then I suggest making an appointment with Hogarth, Benowitz and Chao first."

"Yeah, see the thing about that is: I ain't interested in talking to Titan Solutions. Now I am _definitely_ curious, as to how Hogarth suddenly looks decades younger, or why it is that she's suddenly short an _eyeball._ But currently, I ain't interested in talking to _her_ either. Not right now, at least."

"Look, not to be rude, but at the moment I don't give a fuck as to what you're interested in-"

"-What I _am_ interested in, is how a young man from New York goes from being a regular, unassuming baseline human, to one of the most dangerous beings on the planet in the span of a single year. I am _especially_ interested in how said human, runs off to hunt criminals and arms-dealers in Africa, and then comes back to start a corporate war with _Stark_. And _then,_ how that young man goes from giving the founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. her youth back, to setting an entire _goddamned_ street on fire in the span of a day."

Seeing McCole stiffen in response to his little monologue made Fury want to smile in grim amusement, though his expression remained fixed in a practiced mask of determined neutrality. He made sure to not put too much pressure on the man, the destruction he had to wade through in order to speak to the Enhanced still fresh in his mind.

He had decided to confront McCole at this moment precisely because the man was probably at his most vulnerable right now, and as such was (hopefully) easier to lean on than would have otherwise been the case. The flipside of that, however, was that due to that vulnerability (metaphorically speaking: Fury had seen the footage, and any being capable of shrugging of a cannon-shot to the face is as pretty fucking far from vulnerable as you can feasibly get in his opinion) he was also more likely to instinctively lash out.

And as the world had discovered today, when McCole lashed out, things had a tendency to go up in flames around him.

Including people.

Coulson had argued vehemently against Fury confronting McCole personally because of this, but the Director had shut that down hard. Arriving in force had spooked McCole the last time, and the man had been able to slip from their radar until the moment they picked him up suddenly being the CEO of a company in New York City. If they were to approach _now_ in full force, then he might not only decide to bolt again, but there was also every chance of the man choosing to fight instead.

Sending a single operative was the best course of action here, and considering the plan to have Black Widow infiltrate his forces like she had done with Stark was put on indefinite hold with the destruction of Titan Solutions, they had to send someone else in to talk with the enigma that was McCole face to face.

It had to be him. Someone else might get it wrong.

Continuing where he left off, Fury pinned McCole with a heavy glare.

"Now, I can ignore rumours of criminals running into a demon in Africa. I can even ignore a man who runs away from my people, crashing through a _wall_ in the process: we'll just track him down again after all. What I can _not_ ignore, however, is when that someone sets part of New York on fire, as he murders _thirty_ people on national television!"

A growl leapt from McCole's throat as he uncrossed his arms, walking up to Fury in a few great strides, towering over the Director as he glared down at him, and it took quite a bit of Fury's not inconsiderate amount of willpower not to flinch from the heat coming off the giant, absentmindedly noting that the CEO's cargo pants began to lightly smoke, while the enormous duster remained just fine.

"You got _some_ nerve coming in here and accusing me of murder even as we stand in the remains of my destroyed building Fury." McCole spat out with a snarl.

Fury raised a single eyebrow as he caught McCole's subtle eye-twitch when the man immediately realized his slip up, given that the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had yet to introduce himself.

 _'So, he's angry enough to make mistakes, but **not** angry enough to not realize when he does make them. I can work with that.'_

"The video evidence doesn't lie, McCole. And there's a _lot_ of evidence: there's mobile footage taken bystanders with their phones, to footage taken from the news choppers that have been circling around like goddamned _vultures,_ ever since this _whole_ mess began."

Honestly, there was far more evidence than Fury was pleased with, meaning that there was just no way this could be swept under the rug, unfortunately. This was like when the Hulk broke Harlem all over again. At least Thor's fight with the Destroyer in Puente Antigo (though that had turned out even more destructive than McCole's rampage) had been in a small town, with people too busy with running for their lives to stand and film the destruction, and without any news choppers to catch all the gory details from above.

All that was left after the fight was the clean-up (and hadn't that Destroyer-armour turned out to be just so very _interesting_ to study?), making sure they caught whatever little footage there had been made, and to _strongly_ impress upon the locals that what they had seen was a matter of national security and as such they were never to speak of it again if they didn't want to end up locked away in a government facility in the middle of nowhere for the remainder of their lives.

A lie, of course, considering that while S.H.I.E.L.D. did have _a lot_ of power, even they couldn't just cart an entire village off to prison.

Not that the people of Puente Antigo were aware of that fact of course.

But this was New York. News choppers rivalled pigeons for the top spot of most annoying pest in the air, and the people were more likely to run _towards_ danger than away from it, just in the hope of getting a glimpse of the action.

And judging by the multitude of videos, pictures and gif's that were popping up all around the web, there had been a _lot_ of action to be had (the one where McCole took a deep breath and let out a fucking _wall_ of fire was currently trending on just about every media platform there was, though because he was actively killing people in that shot, it kept being taken down, only to pop up again moments later on another site).

Meaning that Fury had to switch tactics, much like he had been forced to do when Stark decided to be his annoying self, announcing "I am Iron Man" to the world, as if Fury didn't already have enough headaches as it is. Just barging into private property and taking whatever they deemed necessary wouldn't work here, since that would _definetely_ lead to a fight with an angered McCole.

No, _patience_ was key here.

Of course, being a trained spy, it took only a few seconds for these thoughts to pass through Fury's mind (the fact that he had been thinking them from the moment he left his office in order to come down here certainly helped), so when McCole started talking again barely any time had passed.

"You say the footage doesn't lie. I agree. It will clearly show that what I did was in self-defence. That **scum** attacked us first, I simply retaliated." McCole growled angrily, the temperature around them skyrocketing when he mentioned the attackers, his tone suddenly becoming much darker, but Fury stood his ground.

He had faced worse things than a 7 foot tall giant with suspected hyper-intelligence, capable of breathing fire and throwing cars like they were toys.

Granted, he couldn't currently think of any, but he was sure that he had.

"You think that is going to matter in court? Hell, do you believe that you're going to end up in court _at all_? I currently have _three_ different agencies out there, screaming their heads off that, not only should they have all the weapons the attackers used, but that they should impound _every_ scrap of tech Titan Solutions has as well. I have at least three _more,_ that believe that you are a danger to national security, and guess what?! They don't just want your tech, they want to cut you open too and take a look inside to see what makes you tick! I had to call the goddamned _president_ in order to make him reconsider calling in the National Guard for fuck's sake!"

Growling at the threat to both his person and his tech, McCole balled his fist while the temperature surrounding the giant just kept on climbing in response to the man's emotions.

"They want my tech? They want me on a fucking slab? You know what I say to that, Fury? _Let them fucking **try**_."

The Director frowned at McCole's anger, and decided to dial it back a bit. Pushing the man's buttons was fine if it took him off guard, leaving Fury at least with something to work with, but if he pushed too hard then he would be back at square one, on top of McCole actively hating S.H.I.E.L.D. as well.

No, he had used the stick, riling the Enhanced up, making him angry at the world. Now it was time to extend the carrot, to impress upon the man just how much he needed S.H.I.E.L.D., to make him see just how useful an alliance could be.

Or at the very least, co-existence.

"They aren't going to try, because _I'm_ not going to let them. The weapons used by the attackers have already been impounded by S.H.I.E.L.D. before they could get their hands on it, since it is _literally_ our job to deal with these type of situations. And as for you and your company? Well, I'm sure _something_ can be arranged…"

McCole scoffed as Fury trailed off, but the Director noticed that the temperature finally started to cool down again, while the behemoth took a step back as he began to pace back and forth, heedless of the glass that he crushed underneath his bare feet.

"So, that's how you're going to play it? S.H.I.E.L.D. swoops in to save the day, taking the scary weapons of the street, which just so _happens_ to result in it all ending up in your clutches, while all I need to do is bow my head to your demands if I want to avoid conflict with just about every agency out there?" the giant said bitterly, and Fury realized that he needed to calm the man down before he started shutting him out.

"More or less, though I think you're being a bit unfair towards me and my people here McCole. We're not tyrants. We don't want to blackmail you into submission, 'till you're working _for_ us, we want to protect you, so you're free to work _with_ us. We can help you, McCole. You just need to let us."

For a few moments, McCole just kept on pacing, shooting Fury suspicious glances every once in a while. The Director remained stoic as he stood in the sweltering heat, his single eye unerringly following the man in front of him, even as it seemed that McCole might end up dismissing his offer after all.

Finally, it seemed as if the behemoth had come to a decision, letting out a deep sigh as a massive hand came up to pinch his nose, eyes closed in a deep frown.

"Alright. This is a _quid pro quo_ thing then? 'I scratch your back, you scratch mine' sorta thing, huh? _Fine_. Say I accept: what's your price gonna be? What the hell do you want in return for making all this go away and for keeping any suits off my back? And don't try to pull any bullshit on me, like doing this from the good of your heart, or some shit like that."

Easily keeping his grin from showing, Fury allowed a casual expression to show on his face.

"Just a couple of things, along with some information. Nothing you aren't already marketing, really. What's it that you called those fancy suits you gave the police? Amber Armour, right? Now, _that_ is something my people could use. Of course, there's that truck that you made your getaway in, when I had one of my men try and talk to you. All kinds of things like that. I'm sure we can work something out McCole."

"We'll see. I'll have Hogarth draw up a list of items that we're willing to sell to S.H.I.E.L.D. Don't bother getting your hopes up. We won't sell you any supersoldier-formula's." the Enhanced said, clearly still wary of any hidden traps, but unable to come up with a better alternative on the spot, not when they could both see the small army of goverment spooks standing on the ruined street, staring at the burnt-out husk of Titan Solutions with barely concealed greed.

"Fair enough. Like you said, we'll see." Fury replied easily.

"You mentioned information. What did you have in mind?"

"Like I said, nothing much. I can tell you're not exactly, chomping at the bit, to break open that treasure hoard of yours. So, we'll keep things nice and slow at first. Let's begin with this one: what's with the dinosaur?"

Now _that_ was a line he never expected he'd ever have to say. When one of his Agents burst into his office with her phone in her hands and a bewildered expression on her face, he was ready to _sternly_ remind her of what proper decorum was: not barging into your superior's office when he was preparing to go off and do some much needed damage control, for starters.

Then she showed him a trending video of a motherfucking _T-Rex_ of all things running out of Titan Solutions and breathing motherfucking _fire_ at one of the cars, setting it alight before the returning fire from the attackers wounded it, forcing it back inside.

He would never admit it, but for a few moments his face had mirrored his Agent's confused expression, before he managed to school it into a neutral one, already imagining the headache he would get once the public debate _really_ started to get going, after people overcame their shock and fully comprehended the fact that dinosaurs were no longer extinct.

"Science experiment. Next question." McCole said gruffly, and it was only his great experience in the field that allowed Fury to keep his irritation from showing in his expression or tone of voice.

"You know what? _Fine_. I don't even want to deal with dinosaurs right now. Instead, let's talk about _who_ the motherfuckers are, that thought shooting up your building was a good idea? Because, I couldn't help but notice, those are _Wakandan_ weapons out there. What happened McCole? You pissed off a couple of people over there or something?"

Fury knew that McCole had been to Wakanda during the old regime, when it was still closed off to the world. He also knew that McCole had travelled there with Ulysses Klaue and JSOC-agent by the name of Erik Stevens, though he now went by the name of N'Jadaka, King of Wakanda. What Fury _didn't_ know however, was what the hell had happened in the previously isolationist region that had left the ex-Navy Seal the King of the most advanced country in the world and it's prince T'Challa in some sort of shadow war against his cousin.

"Or something." The giant rumbled, eyes narrowed as he took in Fury's words.

The Director could tell that McCole wasn't buying it however; he clearly thought someone other than his former ally had been behind the attack. Well, Klaue was still unaccounted for, and he had shown in the past that he was capable of stealing from Wakanda… Something to look into, Fury thought to himself.

"Really? You goin' to keep quiet on all of _this_ shit?" Fury said grimly, and this time a bit of his frustration leaked through in his voice, though McCole didn't seem to be at all bothered by it.

"It's my fight, Fury. _I'll_ take care of it."

"All right. I _could_ go on and on about how running off to get revenge is just a dumbass thing to do in general, _but_ I can tell you're just gonna ignore me anyway. So let's save the both of us some time instead and just skip that whole part. Let's try something else then, something small. Like what the _hell_ you did to Agent Carter."

" _Agent_ Carter? She back in the field already? Damn, Fury, didn't think you'd stoop to recruiting little old ladies like that." McCole said with a wry grin, clearly trying to get a rise of out Fury.

Unfortunately for the behemoth, Fury had been dealing with _Stark_ for years, meaning it would take _a lot_ more than some teasing to get him flustered these days.

Though he had to admit, seeing a fucking _dinosaur_ today had come pretty close.

"Well, normally I wouldn't. But then again, _normally,_ most ninety year old ladies aren't fit enough to knock out one of my people with a single punch, when they try to keep her from entering a _supposedly_ hidden safe house. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

It was clear that McCole was extremely reluctant with the idea of sharing even a single one of his mysterious secrets, but it was also clear that he disliked the idea of fighting for his tech (and possibly his life) against all of the agencies, that were currently being manhandled away from the scene by S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents, even more.

Of course, had the man not been somewhat frazzled from the intense battle he had just gone through, then his calmer mind might have come up with alternative solutions, but at the moment he was _just_ distracted enough to be manipulated by Fury to the extent that he would consider a tentative alliance.

Which was the whole reason why the Director decided to approach the Enhanced right now, before he had a chance to recollect himself.

" _Fine_. My people have discovered a way to repair the human body on a scale that until now had been thought to be impossible. I used that in order to "repair" all the wear and tear of Mrs. Carter's aged body. Essentially, I "fixed" her old age by healing her to the healthiest she has ever been in her life." the giant told him reluctantly.

Fury immediately noticed that the only question McCole had answered so far had been one that Fury already had some information on, but at the moment there was no real way to call the CEO out on it. At least what he said confirmed Sharon Carter's report, though she had mentioned that McCole had used _three_ serums, one of which had contained the cure for Alzheimer's. Fury suspected that both cures were in some way connected, probably to the same thing that had given some of the workers in Titan Solutions their legs back.

Now if only he could convince McCole to share _that_ technology with S.H.I.E.L.D… the amount of Agents whose lives could be saved… But asking for that now would be pushing the man too hard, so it was best to back off for a bit, and once negations were fully underway, to slowly start pushing for it.

"Anything else?" McCole drawled in a sarcastic tone, and Fury couldn't quite stop himself from giving the man a wry grin.

"For now. We'll keep in contact with you, Mr. McCole. You don't have to worry about your people or your tech for the moment. S.H.I.E.L.D. will take care of it."

"And doesn't _that_ just give me the fuzzies." McCole growled as Fury turned around, walking away as he stuffed his hands inside his coat, his own tone easily matching the giant's sarcasm (something he mastered after years of dealing with Tony Stark).

"You're very welcome. We're just happy to help. By the way, have you thought of a name yet?"

"A name? I already got one, what the hell do I need another name for?"

Half-turning in order to peer at the man from over his shoulder, Fury's smirk widened just the slightest amount.

"I don't mean your _real_ name, McCole. I meant your codename. What do you want people to start calling you?"

"I'm telling you, I don't need another name. I ain't a goddamned superhero, I ain't got some secret identity I need to keep safe or a stupid mask on my face, I'm just me." The CEO of Titan Solutions growled out in annoyance, causing Fury to shake his head in amusement.

"Not a superhero? Neither was Ivan Vanko, but the news ended up calling him Whiplash all the same. Same goes for Blonsky, everyone started calling him the Abomination. And I think that the name _Iron Man_ is more famous than the name Tony Stark at the moment. But, what are they going to end up calling _you_? You better come up with _something_ , McCole, because I guarantee you that if you don't, _they_ will."

With that last piece of advice said, Fury started walking away again, glad to finally get out of the sweltering heat of the ruined building. He had accomplished his goals here since he had suspected from the beginning that he wouldn't be able to get McCole to trust him fully, which is why he hadn't pushed for cooperation all that much. A simple exchange of material and information would do. For now.

So on to the next fire it was.

Before he had fully exited the building though, McCole's rumbling bass called out to him, halting him in his tracks.

"Hyperion!"

Turning around with a questioning look, he saw the giant man cross his arms in front of his chest again, giving an impressive scowl as his eyes burned like embers.

"They will call me Hyperion."

Giving a nod and a small smirk, Fury turned back towards his ride, before McCole's voice once more halted him in his tracks.

"Fury! Be careful of who you trust. There's monsters hiding in the shadows, you know. They're really persistent fuckers too: every time you behead them, they just come back twice as bad as before."

Trying his best to ignore the cold chill that shot up his spine at those ominous words, Fury simply gave a quick nod, showing he had understood the man's cryptic message, before he continued walking towards the black SUV that was already waiting for him. It wasn't the first time he had received a dire warning (in his line of business they were about as common as talks about the weather or something), but if McCole had meant what Fury suspected he did...

As his mind kept re-examining what the Enhanced told him, he idly noted all the Agents that were running around, securing the futuristic weaponry in large cases, emblazoned with the proud eagle of S.H.I.E.L.D. on their lids, suits from the CIA, NSA and FBI looking on in helpless fury as the advanced tech was snatched out from under their noses.

As he got inside the SUV, giving directions as he sat down in the backseat, Fury's mind kept on rolling McCole's words over in his head, before he decided to shelve it for now. There was hardly anything he could enact at the moment: he'd need to talk to a couple of people before he even _begin_ formulating a plan of action, a recently reinstated top-Agent coming to mind. Instead, he thought about the codename the CEO had given him, unknowingly giving a small grin of approval as he glanced back at the burnt out building.

 _'The Titan of Light and Fire, huh? Dramatic enough, I suppose. Well then, let's see what you're going to do in retaliation, McCole. Who do **you** think is responsible for the attack? I got some ideas, especially after you gave me yor message, but I'm curious who you're going to go after. No way in hell a guy with a name like Hyperion is going to let this attack go unanswered.'_ _'_

* * *

 **Twenty minutes after the Massacre**

Pain lancing through her skull with every heartbeat, Jeri Hogarth, legal advisor to the famous Titan Solutions company, grasped at her phone with trembling hands, her fingers, slick with blood, sliding over the smooth glass every time she tried using the damned thing.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, she managed to hit the call button, sliding down the marred wall of her office she had been leaning against until she was sitting on the floor, heedless of the way her clothes rumpled around her as she stared at the corpse on the other side of the room.

It took six rings before the holographic screen lit up, and the exhausted face of Michael McCole, the CEO of Titan Solutions stared back at her. She saw his burning eyes widen in confusion when he took in her blood-splattered appearance, his mouth falling open in shock.

Jeri herself felt dull surprise as well, though it was probably the shock she was currently in that kept her from currently experiencing any intenser emotions. Her eye flitting to the corpse that was still bleeding out on her floor, Jeri decided that she was rather grateful for that.

"Jeri?! Fucking hell, Jeri what happened?!"

Focusing back on the holographic screen in her hand, the lawyer tried to put her scrambled thoughts in order, deciding to ignore Michael's burning surroundings for the moment.

"An assassin… I was just looking over the reports you sent me on my computer, when I hear my window open behind me… and I turn around and all I see is this flash of steel… his sword bounced off my neck, Michael, it just bounced straight off…" Jeri tried to explain, but her mind felt like it was stuffed with wool and she noticed with a small part of irritation that her hands were still shaking.

Looking at them with a frown, the lawyer almost missed Michael's hurried questions, focusing back on his words with a monumental amount of effort.

"Jeri, please! I need you to tell me what happened, beginning to end, all right? Walk me through it Jeri, you can do it."

Taking a deep breath, Jeri tried to think back to the events that had happened mere minutes ago, resolutely keeping her eye averted from the cooling corpse across from her.

* * *

 _Honestly, it had felt just like any other day for her: there was nothing about it that tipped Jeri Hogarth off to the fact that someone would be trying to cut her head off today. No, for now, all she was doing was sitting behind her desk, as usual, working her way through a dozen emails, as usual, and bemoaning the fact that, despite the fact that she was working in one of the most respected law firms in New York City, the machine on her floor still poured coffee that tasted like dirt, as usual._

 _Of course, what happened next was as far from the usual as you could possibly get, and considering the man she worked for, that was saying quite a lot._

 _She was just taking a sip from the godawful coffee (just because it tasted like dirt didn't mean that she wouldn't drink it. She had grown up with far worse, after all) when she heard a soft noise behind her, like an echo of a whisper almost._

 _Placing her mug on her desk as she half-turned in her seat, all that Jeri saw were a flutter of darkened cloth and the shine of steel descending towards her neck._

 _Now, Jeri Hogarth was a self-made woman, someone who had crawled and clawed her way from the bottom all the way to the top, fighting each and every day to cast off her poor beginnings in her quest for power and control._

 _As such, she was a person who **despised** procrastinating._

 _So, when the madman she worked for told her that he had a method that made her completely invulnerable to conventional weaponry, she had pressed him in order to perform the procedure on her that very same day._

 _She had declined his combat augmentation on the grounds that she didn't really see much use for it (and she didn't quite like the idea of her eyes burning like Michael's did), though she acquiesced to the intelligence enhancer, since eidetic memory sounded like a godsend in her line of work._

 _But being protected from all harm, even car crashes if what Michael promised her was true? Her entire career, her entire **life** had been focused on acquiring power as a means of protecting herself, and here this man could achieve something far more tangible in a **day**?_

 _All of it meant that when the sharpened edge of the steel blade met the soft skin of her neck, the blade lost._

 _The sword bouncing off her with a dull clanging sound, both Jeri and her masked attacker were frozen for just a second, her scared eyes meeting his surprised ones._

 _Of course, this couldn't last, his experience snapping him from his shock, while Jeri's Brain Booster made her fast enough on the uptake to jump away from the assassin as he swung again._

 _The blade barely missed her, cutting through her jacket as the wide swing ended up burying the sword deep into her desk. Breathing heavily, time seemed to slow down around her as she saw her attacker rip the blade from her desk with an ease that showcased an enormous amount of hidden strength._

 _For all that she was now superhumanly durable and strong, she wasn't a fighter, other than the pepperspray she kept in her bag. Unfortunately, Jeri didn't think that a can of mace would be sufficient in warding off what appeared to be one of those honest to God ninjas that Michael had been warning her about, and she was even less confident in her ability to overpower the assassin._

 _So she ran away instead._

 _Or tried to, at least._

 _She felt something slam into her back with enough force to imbalance her mid-run, forcing her to the ground, though whatever had smashed into her gave a wheezing grunt as they collided._

 _Looking over her shoulder, Jeri saw that the ninja had tackled her to the ground, but judging by the way his hand briefly flew to his shoulder, he had broken something when they smashed into each other._

 _Not surprising, considering that he might as well have run into a brick wall._

 _Still, he was already on his feet, while she had just worked herself to her knees, and once again the blade came down on her exposed neck. She could hear the assassin give an angered growl as his sword once more failed to even scratch her, before she managed to straighten herself somewhat._

 _Just in time to see him perform a roundhouse kick that wouldn't be out of place in one of those kung-fu movies her brothers used to watch all the time. The moccasin-clad foot descended towards her face at breakneck speeds and-_

 _"Aargghh!"_

 _-broke with a wet crunching sound on her chin, the assassin taken off guard enough that he let out a strangled scream of pain, jumping away from her as he threw a brace of knives at her, all of them cutting through her clothing only to bounce off her skin._

 _Working herself to her feet, Jeri took a few deep, gulping breaths as she stared at her assailant across the room, who was carefully keeping his weight off of his broken foot, though his eyes stared unwaveringly into her own._

 _Feeling a bit more self-assured, Jeri squared up, her fists raised in front of her as she stared the trained killer down. Now, the lawyer might not have been a fighter, but she had grown up with three older brothers, and was now faced with someone who literally couldn't even scratch her._

 _'Right. I can **do** this. All I need to do is land one punch, or even just give him a really hard push, and then I can make my way out of here. Michael said these ninja-wannabe's are part of some sort of hidden shadow organization, so if I go out in the open, he'll probably be forced to back off. Now, I'll advance towards his right side, since that side is probably weaker because of his broken foot, and then I'll-'_

 _Jeri's thoughts were halted in their tracks by the sound of the door to her office opening, and as she watched, she could see the assassin's eyes move towards something ('no, some **one** ') behind her, one of his hands already dashing inside the loose vest he wore._

 _"Jeri, what's going on-"_

 _Turning around with a horrified expression, Jeri tried to run towards Pam, a warning already tearing from her throat, but she knew she was too late when she saw several blades fly past her head, two of them striking her girlfriend in the chest, a third one slamming into the blonde's abdomen._

 _She was dead before she even hit the ground._

 _Skidding to a halt on her knees next to her downed lover, Jeri tried to do whatever she could for the woman, even though intellectually she knew that Pam was already gone._

 _Blinking tears from her eyes, the lawyer completely forgot about her assailant as she tried to put pressure on Pam's wounds, the young woman's dress already being covered in an ever-expanding pool of blood._

 _And then her would-be murderer made his presence known once again by placing a plastic bag over her head._

 _While her skin might be indestructible, her insides were decidedly not, meaning that while she could withstand bullet-impacts and sword slashes just fine, she still needed to breathe._

 _How her attacker had figured it out so soon she didn't know, but at the moment her mind was far too overcome with panic and grief to really bother thinking about it, so instead she simply surged to her feet, trying to head-butt the man trying to choke her._

 _The ninja wasn't caught off guard however, leaning backwards every time Jeri tried to strike at him with her head or with her elbows, easily staying out of her reach while he kept the pressure on the bag._

 _One of Jeri's hands came up to tear at the thick plastic, but her fingers kept scrabbling across the smooth surface, and before she could find any proper grip, she could feel the assassin giving a harsh tug on the bag, unbalancing her and nearly forcing her off her feet._

 _So Jeri did the next best thing she could think of through the haze of panic that strangled her advanced mind._

 _She began running backwards._

 _She could tell that the assassin was taken off guard, and trying to keep up with her desperate charge, but the suddenness of her attack combined with his broken foot meant that she managed to crash into him._

 _She kept on running._

 _The assassin clearly caught on to what she attempted to do, based on his increased struggles, but it turned out to be futile, in between the rather modest size of Jeri's office, the speed of her charge and her enhanced strength._

 _In the span of mere moments, she had slammed into the wall of her office with a massive cracking sound, the assassin caught between unforgiving concrete and the even more durable body of Jeri Hogarth. As she felt the man's grip on the bag lessen, her hands came up, ripping it off her head as she took in several long, deep gulps of air._

 _It turned out to be just enough time for the assassin to regain his senses, because as she whirled around with her elbow coming up to strike at him, he had already moved to the side, letting Jeri's elbow slam into the concrete next to his battered torso, shattering the stone with the force of her attack._

 _Jeri tried to turn her failed elbow-strike into a wild hay-maker, certain that with how close the two of them were standing now (almost chest to chest, in fact) she would inevitably end up hitting **some** part of the battered assassin, which would be enough to force him to the ground and allow her to splatter his brains across her carpet._

 _However, their close range turned against her when the ninja still proved to be the better fighter of the two when a blade slipped into his hand, which came up in a flash right as she was about to take a swing, a white-hot burning pain suddenly lancing through her skull._

 _Jeri let out a pained scream as she took a few stumbling steps back, one hand clutching her right eye, a small knife showing underneath her clenched fingers. Even through the inferno of pain she felt roaring inside her brain, her other eye caught the interest and understanding that showed in the assassin's gaze, a second blade falling in his hands as he leaned forwards._

 _There was a flash of light as the sun struck the metal of the blade shooting towards her face-_

 _'clang!'_

 _-before her left hand closed around the weapon, stopping the ninja dead in his tracks, the straining metal of his blade scraping against her skin without any effect. Even as the man tried to recover, there was a disgusting wet tearing sound, before Jeri's right hand came up, clutching the handle of the first blade, the metal covered in gore, which she buried in her assailant's left shoulder with a hate-filled snarl._

 _The ninja gave a surprised grunt as he was jerked back a bit from the strength of Jeri's sudden attack, before the one-eyed lawyer suddenly let go of the other blade, her fist shooting forwards and crashing straight into the assassin's chest, throwing him back several feet until he crashed against her windows, cracking them and falling to the ground with a pained grunt._

 _But Jeri wasn't paying attention to the man anymore, sinking to her knees while both hands were clasped over the mangled ruin that used to be her right eye, a pained screamed tearing from the usually stoic woman's throat._

 _Slowly, oh so very slowly, Jeri removed her bloodied hands from the gaping wound, the regeneration factor the Amber Armor gave her making itself known as the unbearable pain lessened somewhat, to the point that the woman could finally string together a coherent thought._

 _Grasping the crumbling concrete next to her, Jeri pulled herself to her feet, wary of another attack, before she managed to wipe away the tears in her remaining eye (unknowingly smearing her face even further with blood) and saw that the assassin had left, a thin trail of blood leading from underneath the cracked window to the one that stood open, where he had entered her office in the first place._

 _With adrenaline still roaring through her veins, Jeri gave a choked sob, fumbling in her pocket for the phone that Michael had given her, trying her best to not look at the cooling corpse of her girlfriend that was lying across the room from her._

 _She needed to call Michael._

 _He would know what to do._

 _He would know who had to **die**._

* * *

After haltingly telling Michael what had happened, she saw him frown in concern, even as her hearing picked up hurried footsteps coming from the hallway. Seemed like someone finally decided to investigate the strange noises that had come from her office.

"Jeri, I promise I'll come by as soon as I can, all right? For now, please just stay put, don't go home. If the assassin was bold enough to attack you at work, then he'll definitely be bold enough to attack you in your home as well. At least at work, you'll be out in the open, making it more difficult for him to strike again. I'll send two body guards over right away, all right?"

Jeri, her right eye held closed while that side of her face was splattered with blood, looked at the concerned face of Michael projected from her phone, and felt unease twist inside her gut.

She didn't like the idea of remaining out here in the open, surrounded by innocents (her eyes remained resolutely fixed on the screen in her lap) when there were clearly fucking _ninja_ out there _trying to kill her._ Still, what Michael had said made some sense at least, and she couldn't deny that the idea of having two people from his security watching over her gave her a small sense of comfort, so she gave a curt nod nonetheless.

She opened her mouth to speak, but right at that moment she saw Michael stiffen, and his eyes flit to the side, as if he was caught off guard by something off screen.

"I've got to go now, Jeri. Just trust me, okay? It'll be all right, I'm gonna make _sure_ of it."

"Fine. Stay safe."

"You too."

With that the connection went silent, and with a shaky sigh she let the bloodied plate of glass slip from her trembling fingers, tilting her head back as she just stared at the ceiling above her.

She knew that she should be on her feet, trying to do damage control after Michael had told her what had happened on his end. His fight had been _very_ public and was likely being televised even now, with everyone desperate for their five minutes of fame appearing on screen in order to share their thoughts on what had happened as so called "experts", just like it had been when those two gamma-monsters had fought in Harlem.

But she couldn't move. She just remained sitting in place, the back of her head resting against the cool concrete of her ruined office wall, a trail of blood slowly dripping from the gaping wound down her cheek like a twisted mirror of the tear tracks her other eye were making, all the while simply staring at her ceiling.

She remained in that position, even as she heard a horrified gasp coming from her office door.

She remained in that position, even as the security from her company burst into the office, looking around bewildered as they took in the damage and one of them gagging when they saw the body of Pam lying on the floor.

She remained in that position, even when Michael's guys came in, both of them faintly smelling of smoke and not saying a word, one going over to stand in front of the window, the other walking over to stand next to her seated from.

She remained in that position, and all she could think about was _one_ thing, repeating itself over and over and _over_ again in her mind, like a broken record as it kept looping in on itself.

' _I'm going to_ _ **kill**_ _the Hand.'_

* * *

 **Four hours after the Massacre**

"New York, and indeed, the _world_ , was shocked today, as the city is being struck by waves of violence and crime. Gangs with advanced weaponry have been reported all over the city, and in one place in particular, tragedy occurred. At roughly three pm today, a column of cars parked in front of the Titan Solutions building, and opened fire, doing massive amounts of damage. There is currently no information available on what caused such a violent attack, but the world has seen how it was ended."

Sitting on the side of a bed in a non-descript motel a few hours outside New York, Jessica Jones felt oddly hollow as she stared at the old TV in their room, where some news lady she didn't bother to remember the name of was staring in the camera with a carefully practised expression of concern.

After the woman finished her little intro, the scene switched to something she had re-watched a dozen times today already. It was footage taken from a news chopper, and it showed a line of cars opening fire on the workshop, each shot taking out worryingly large gaps of decennia old brick and mortar.

On a banner in the bottom of the screen, the words 'Caution: the following images are graphic and may be found disturbing. Viewer discretion is advised.' kept on rolling past.

For once in her life, Jessica didn't scoff at the message, as she looked on how a man wielding what appeared to be a fucking _cannon_ aimed his monstrosity at the front of the building, and with a blinding shot, punched an enormous hole straight through it.

And things just kept on getting worse from there, as little Susan busted down the door of the warehouse in her charge at the nearest car, proudly showing off both her existence and ability to breath fire to the entire world as she managed to set the vehicle alight.

Despite the shock that most of the attackers felt at being suddenly confronted with a fire breathing dinosaur, some of them proved to be quick on the uptake, taking aim at the little lizard that Jessica had secretly grown quite fond of during the dino's short existence.

A few shots later (and Jessica could almost swear that she heard Susan's pained cries over the television) and the bleeding dinosaur ran back inside, while the attackers kept on tearing at the wall of the workshop, punching enormous holes in it.

From what little she could tell from the angle the news chopper was at, the people still inside the now burning building were running around and trying to evacuate, rather than attack, even though it was likely to end in their favour due to their powers.

But outside of those few people that were ex-army or had worked in security, most of the people in there were just civilians, and like all civilians, they panicked when they suddenly found themselves under heavy artillery fire out of nowhere.

One of Michael's people chose to buy his colleagues time, and burst through the weakened wall like a human sized wrecking ball, running towards one of the cars, shouldering an attacker out of the way with enough force to send the man flying several feet.

Shots kept impacting him, tearing away at his shirt and jeans, but the man (and to her hidden shame, she just couldn't remember his name) soldiered his way through them with a grimace and when he finally got close enough to one of the cars, punched straight through the hood of the vehicle, his fist disappearing into its engine block.

For a moment nothing happened, before the front of the car exploded, throwing everyone around it to the ground, including the man that had worked for Michael. Being closer to the blast and weakened from the earlier shots, the man was slower than the attackers in working himself to his feet.

Before he could fully get up, one of the enemies' grunts wielding a heavy rifle ran up to him, placed the barrel of his weapon almost flush against his head, and pulled the trigger.

Again and again and again and _again_ , even as he was joined by three of his colleagues, the man's head disappearing in a shower of gunfire and broken tarmac.

Even before the dust settled, Jessica knew that the man was dead, and without even thinking about it, she crushed the beer can in her hands into a flattened disk, though her expression hardly even changed.

Still, cooler heads prevailed, since the footage was high enough that it managed to capture people escaping through the back of the warehouse, a man she thought was Burstein clearly directing people outside, based on his wide and frantic gestures.

And then things got even _worse_.

Michael arrived.

The way the footage was shot meant that there was no view on the opposite side of street where the Titan Solutions warehouse had stood, since that had been directly underneath the helicopter. Meaning that out of nowhere, a burning blur descended from the sky, suddenly crashing into one of the cars in the column and crushing it underneath its weight.

As the fire-wreathed being straightened up from its crouch, Jessica got her first good look at Michael McCole when the man was pushed to beyond his limits, his burning eyes managing to be intimidating even through the footage taken from several stories up, and shown through a dingy TV.

What happened next could only be called a slaughter.

Michael moved fast enough at points that the camera had trouble keeping up with him, and each strike was lethal, picking up and wielding cars as if they were made of paper, even breathing a fucking inferno at his enemies.

All the while his suit kept burning up around him, making it appear at times as if he was made from flames, and shrugging off weapons that had been shown to be capable of demolishing an entire fucking building.

As she kept on watching with a flat stare while Michael kept burning people alive around him, standing in a pool of lava and with a blinding white-hot glow coming from his body, uttering a roar that she felt even through the TV, she could hear someone walk up to her, though her eyes remained fixed on the screen.

Right until someone used the remote to shut it off. Glancing to her side, she saw Sterns standing next to her, a worried look on his misshapen face as he looked at her.

"Jessica, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She said quickly.

 _Too_ quickly.

Trying (and failing) to ignore Sterns' knowing look, she reached out with her hand, stubbornly keeping it outstretched as she stared at the now blank TV until she heard a sigh coming from the scientist, and felt the weight of the remote being placed in her hand.

"It's going to be all right, Jess. We took a hit, yes that much is true. We lost some of our people, we lost our building, we even lost some of our secrets, now that Susan is known to the world. But we can come back from this. We can _fix_ this Jessica."

Jessica couldn't help but give out a harsh bark of laughter, even as she clicked the TV back on, though she was secretly thankful that the footage of Michael's rampage had been replaced with the annoying news lady from before, who was now talking to a team of "experts" on what this new development meant for the world and all that kind of pretentious shit.

As if any of them knew what it was like to live with powers in a world that was just so… _fragile_.

"What's there to fix? The fact that some of our people are _dead_? The fact that our _boss_ is an unstoppable murderer? Or maybe the fact that his little killing spree is being shown on national television?"

Shooting Sterns a heavy glare as she reached over for another beer can, she angrily shook her head.

"There's nothing to fix, Sterns. We're fucked. We're all fucked."

Taking a gulp of the cheap beer, Jessica tried to ignore the weight that settled on the bed next to her, stubbornly staring ahead as she and Sterns sat side by side. The mutated scientist remained silent for a few moments, before she saw him looking at her from the corner of her eye, a surprisingly gentle look on his face.

In all the time that she had known him, the word that would best describe the mad scientist would be "excitable". He always had this gleam in his eye when he looked at the world around him, a massive grin on his face whenever he was working on some advance piece of technology decades ahead of its time.

So the man having a gentle look on his face took her off guard for a moment, something which she would later end up blaming her reluctant openness on.

"Jessica. What's going on? What happened was bad, yes, _really_ bad. But you're one of the toughest people I know, and that's coming from the guy whose best friend once asked him to lace his bones with an indestructible metal."

Despite herself, a small grin came to Jessica's face as she heard the exasperation in Sterns' voice, looking down at the can in her lap as she fiddled with its lid.

"You really aren't ever going to let that go, aren't you?"

"Nope. Never. _Someone_ needs to keep that oaf in line sometimes." Sterns said with a small laugh in his voice, before the sombre mood from before returned as he trailed off.

"So, what is it? It's alright to talk about it, you know? I know that bottling things up might seem preferable, but trust me when I say that in the long run, sharing how you feel really does help. And yes, hearing myself speak does make me realize how incredibly corny that sounds." Sterns idly told her, prompting another bleak smile from her.

"It is _very_ corny, yes."

"Not untrue though."

For a few moments, silence fell between them as Sterns was willing to wait for her to start talking if she wanted to. She debated it for a few moments, knowing that the scientist wouldn't hold it against her if she decided not to take him up his offer, but when she caught yet another rerun from the massacre on the TV from the corner of her eyes, the dam broke.

"It's just that… I _know_ he's stronger than me. Have ever since I began working for him. I could _feel_ his strength when we arm-wrestled, so it's not a surprise or something. But _that_ much stronger… I'm pretty sure I could lift, like, a car above my head, but to throw it around like it was a fucking toy or something… to _crush_ someone with it…"

"Is that what is bothering you? The difference in strength between you?"

"You know what, sure, let's go with that."

"All right."

And with that, they fell silent again, the only noise in the room the TV across from them. At any moment, Jessica expected the scientist to start prodding her again, to call her out on her obvious lie, but he just remained quiet next to her, not pushing her at all.

Which just made it all the harder for Jessica to keep quiet as well.

Finally she gave out a sigh as she cursed the well-meaning scientist in her mind, before turning slightly on the bed in order to face him a bit better, her hands still playing around with the can she held in her lap.

"I mean, it's not that. It's… It's that I thought I _knew_ him, you know? We laughed together, we drank together, we joked together and then just… then suddenly, one day he shows up on the news, _killing_ people!"

Giving an understanding nod, Sterns clasped his hands together as he looked at her with earnest eyes.

"But you knew that he was planning on killing the Hand and Hydra didn't you? He told all of us about the dangers of those organizations, but he really only talked about possible countermeasures with me, Burstein, a few people in Security, and you."

"Well, yeah, but that was just… _theoretical_. I've never seen him actually _kill_ someone before. Hell, I've never seen _anyone_ kill anyone before!"

"I see. I'm sorry to say this Jessica, but that's just the reality of the situation. It sounds harsh, I know, but it is how it is. Michael is upsetting the current status quo something fierce, pushing boundaries everywhere he goes. It was simply inevitable that someone ended up pushing back."

"I understand that. A bit, I guess. Doesn't change the fact that the man I work for is now on every goddamned news station and internet page, setting people on fire with his bare hands and just generally looking like a demon from hell or something."

"Yes. That does complicate things, I agree."

For a moment neither one talked, both just going over the events of the day in the privacy of their mind, before Jessica looked at the sombre scientist sitting next to her.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yes?"

"You know Michael the longest. Have you ever seen him k-… do _that_ before?"

Sterns looked extremely uncomfortable at her sudden question and for a moment Jessica thought the scientist would refuse to answer, before the eggheaded man gave out a tired sigh.

"Yes. I have seen him kill before. Not on this scale, however."

The answer made her feel… made her feel…. Made her feel what, exactly? Betrayed? Sad? Disappointed? Hell if she knew, but she was fairly certain that whatever emotions she was currently feeling, she didn't like a single one of them.

"What happened?"

The scientist gave a grimace of discomfort, but he answered her question nonetheless.

"We were in South-Africa, on our way to Johannesburg in Oliver. We were a few hours outside the city, when a couple of cars jumped out of the underbrush on the sides of the road. There were six of them, and they boxed us in, waving machine guns at us as they screamed to stop the truck. Michael told me to do as they said, so I did and then I hid underneath the dashboard. I can't tell you exactly what happened next, but there was a lot of screaming, people firing guns, and the sound of several car collisions. When everything turned quiet, I got out of the cabin and he… he had killed most of them, set a part of the road on fire."

Giving a slow nod at the scientist's story, Jessica turned back to the TV again, though she hardly registered what it was showing as she kept going over Sterns' words inside her mind.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

It was only when she heard Sterns' question that she realized that she had been the one to speak first, and gripping her beer a bit tighter, she forged on.

"Why does he react like that? I get that he was trying to save people, I do. I understand that when you're faced with people like that, it's either them or you. But _that_ … what Michael did… there's just so much… _rage_ …"

Sterns seemed to fumble for an answer, before his shoulders slumped somewhat as he looked at her with a tired, bleak little smile.

"Tell me Jessica. Do you know what Michael is afraid of the most?"

For a moment, the very idea that the giant of a man, the same man who had thrown around cars like they were made of cardboard, was afraid of anything at all was so absurd that she nearly let out a laugh, despite the gloomy mood that hang over the cramped room.

But she could tell that the scientist was completely serious, so she reigned in her incredulous response and tried to think of the answer. When nothing came to her, she just shrugged as she looked at Sterns with a raised eyebrow.

"I dunno. What's he afraid of?"

"Death."

"…"

"Death?"

"Yes."

"You're shitting me."

"No, I'm completely serious."

"Really? _Death_?"

Giving a nod at her incredulous look, Sterns elaborated.

"He hasn't told me so, and he won't ever admit it, but Michael's absolutely terrified at the thought of dying. I've been around him for a _year_ Jessica, and his every waking moment is spent trying to find ways to become more powerful."

"Doesn't that just make him greedy though?"

"I thought so too at first. But then I thought at _how_ he was acquiring that power. He wasn't going around gathering people under his banner, or trying to make allies. He only started up Titan Solutions _after_ he gained his current powers. No, every move he made, was to enhance _himself_. To make _himself_ safer."

"I don't get it."

"I always joke about the time he asked me to lace his bones with Vibranium, but really think about it Jessica. Think about _why_ someone would be so _desperate_ , that he's willing to undergo massive amounts of experimental and invasive surgery, in order to have an indestructible skeleton, despite the fact that he already has superstrength and an incredible healing factor. And that's not even considering the fact that he made a beeline from the heart of Africa to Burstein's home in order to be made bulletproof on top of that. Every single move that I have seen Michael make, was in order to make himself stronger, more powerful, more _durable_."

"All right. I can see it. Weird, but I get what you're getting at. But how does that answer my question?"'

"Because on both occasions, the things that he _needs_ in order to become more powerful were threatened. Without me, he would have torn his own body apart long ago, with all the different means he keeps enhancing himself with. Without Titan Solutions backing him, he's just one man, and considering who some of his enemies are, being on your own is tantamount to being 'disappeared' in the middle of the night."

As she went over Sterns' words, she could finally identify _one_ of the emotions she was currently feeling. Yep, there's that familiar sour taste of disappointment, something that she knew all too well unfortunately.

"So the only reason he went flying off the handle like that was because we're _useful_ enough to him to be protected? Figures."

It was only once the words had left her mouth that she realized just how bitter they sounded, but Sterns just looked at her with a gentle smile and a small shake of his head.

"Not what I meant, Jessica. Or at least, not entirely. He has several serums inside of him which in any other person before him have shown to lead to mental instabilities. It was only after our trip to Wakanda that his psyche settled somewhat, and I used what I learned from his body to make Extremis safe enough to the point that such a thing is no longer a danger, and we don't plan on enhancing people with gamma-radiation period. But despite the fact that he's now a lot calmer than he used to be, he still has those old triggers and altered impulses. And when they are brought up as strongly as they were during that attack… well, I think it's debatable just how much of that was Michael and how much of that was… something _darker_."

"So what you're actually saying is… what?"

"We're working for a dick."

The blunt reply took her off guard, and before she could stop herself she let out a surprised laugh, quickly joined by Sterns' chuckling, before the scientist looked at her with a small smile.

" _But_ , he's also someone that cares about us. In his own, dickish way, of course."

"Of course." Jessica replied wryly, getting a wink from Sterns in response.

Though she hated to admit it, even to herself, the scientist had turned out to be right: their little talk had left her feeling a bit better. Her emotions were still all over the place (though she'd die before she'd ever admit it), and she still wasn't completely sure how her thoughts about Michael had changed, but at least she had calmed down enough to the point that she decided to not worry about it for the moment.

When they returned to New York, then she and Michael would talk, but for now she still had a job to do.

Right as she thought that, she could hear the door to their room open and close again, heavy footsteps making their way towards where she and Sterns were sitting on one of the two beds.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Jim Harper, head of Security, approach them, his face impassive as it always was, his booted feet thudding against the carpet as he made his way over to the bed as well, where he sat down on Sterns other side.

"Done with your perimeter check then?"

"Yes ma'am." Came the dry response, and Jessica couldn't quite help herself from rolling her eyes at the stoic sixty year old (though he looked not a day over thirty).

The man was as emotive as a brick wall, and had a sense of humour to match. Still, he was dependable enough that Michael had given him multiple enhancements straight off the bat, and he had proven himself during their little road trip, so Jessica had decided to give the man some slack.

"All right then. Shall we call Michael now?" Sterns asked them, getting a 'yes sir' from Harper and a grunt and a shrug from her.

Reaching into his pocket, Sterns took out a slim piece of glass, opening the holographic interface with a flick of his finger. Quickly selecting Michael's contact, the phone connected with a few sharp rings before their boss answered, his exhausted face filling the small screen.

"Oh good, you called. I assume you've seen the news by now?"

"Yeah, we did. How is it going over there? Hang on, let me put you on viewing mode."

And with that, Sterns flicked his thumb up, sending the small screen flying upwards from the glass plate, hovering a foot away from them and three feet off the ground. Another finger flick, and the screen enlarged until it was larger than the TV in their room, like a slightly translucent flatscreen just hanging in the air.

"So, what's going on?"

Michael gave a deep sigh in response, as one massive hand came up to rub his face, before he placed his chin on his fist, fixing them with a flat stare.

"Honestly, better than expected, worse than I'd hoped. Finished going through the rubble of the warehouse, salvaged what we could. The police is keeping the journalists at bay, and S.H.I.E.L.D. is doing the same to all the other suits that want our tech for themselves, so on that front we're doing all right for now. It's more that we're floundering for what to do next. On the one hand, I want to tell people that they should go home to their families, but on the other hand, I _need_ people here in order to keep guard over everything we salvaged, which I can't place in a secure location at the moment, since we're holed up in a hotel right now. I'm thinking about buying another warehouse for the time being, while we start building a fortified base somewhere, but that kinda shit takes time to process. Especially now that Hogarth's out of action. Her team is picking up her workload, but honestly she was better than them even _before_ we enhanced her, so-"

"Wait, what do you mean, Hogarth's _out of action_?" Sterns asked with a bewildered expression.

"She got attacked Sterns. An assassin, sent by the Hand to take her head off. Got the surprise of his life when his sword didn't even manage to cut her."

"Is Hogarth all right?" Jessica asked in a worried tone, shoving her complicated thoughts about the man on the screen to the side for now.

"… No. Not really, no. The ninja figured out pretty quickly that only her skin is superdurable, so he took out one of her eyes."

"But she's got regeneration right? The eye will grow back, right?" Jessica asked.

While she wasn't exactly close to the hardass lawyer, she still respected the woman due to the fact that she had taken the plans of a small group of supergeniuses and used them to stamp a mutli-billion corporation out of the ground, practically overnight.

The fact that she was somewhat infamous within the ranks of Titan Solutions for taking no shit from anyone, not even Michael, meant that the lady was all right as far as Jessica was concerned.

"Yeah, the eye is growing back, but the damage was massive, so it's unclear whether or not it'll heal completely. It might regenerate, but with lessened vision or something. Doesn't really matter in the end, since we can still give Hogarth Extremis and it'll grow back fine. Her assistant though… the girl walked into Hogarth's office while she struggled with the ninja. Asshole killed her before she even knew what was going on. Jeri's devastated, they were… close."

For a moment, Michael fell silent, and the already grim mood in the tiny motel room turned even more sombre, before their boss visibly shook himself, looking at the screen with a focused gaze.

"Now's things on your end? Everything's fine? Are you guys all right?"

"Well, we are _unharmed_ , if that's what you're asking…" Sterns trailed off, clearly somewhat unsure how to continue.

Jessica saw Michael's eyes widen just a bit, before the man gave a bone-tired sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"What happened?"

"Well, what happened is… Well, I think Jim might explain it better. He told us to keep back and took care of everything, so I honestly don't know all that much. Jim?"

Giving a curt nod and a grunt in return, Harper turned to look at the large screen, ordering his thoughts for a short moment as he crossed his arms in front of his broad chest.

"We were about sixty clicks out of New York when I started to suspect that we were being followed."

"What made you think that?" Michael asked with a frown.

"The same white van kept a consistent six cars lengths behind us for over twenty minutes sir. Still, I wasn't sure, so I had Dr. Sterns drive into the nearest town, and had him make four right turns. When the car I spotted kept following us, I had confirmation that we had picked up a tail." Harper explained, which drew a scowl from Michael.

"You were followed? Shit. Not unexpected, as Oliver isn't the most inconspicuous vehicle in the world, but still. It's a moot point now, I suppose. What did you do once you had confirmation?"

"I told Dr. Sterns to pull into the nearest motel he could find, and had Miss Jones call you for further instructions. Both you and HQ couldn't be reached, so I considered our situation a field op and took charge."

"Fair enough. I lost my phone when I hurried to stop the attack, and people at HQ… Well, like I said, you've seen the news. Go on." Michael ordered, getting a brisk nod from Harper.

"Yes sir. We went to the motel that Dr. Sterns had found, and I had him and Jessica exit the vehicle and enter, where they rented a room. I snuck out of the vehicle after they had entered, making sure that I wasn't seen in the proximity of the truck. I then went inside myself, and also rented a room. While the clerk's back was turned, I placed a miniature microphone underneath the desk, and once I received my key, met up with Miss Jones and Dr. Sterns at the agreed upon rendezvous, where we switched rooms."

"Wait. Miniature microphone?" Michael asked with a raised eyebrow.

Giving a stoic nod at Michael's confused tone, Harper quickly explained.

"After you told us about the danger of the Hand and Hydra, and that I was going to go accompany Miss Jones and Dr. Sterns on a mission to recruit Dr. Radcliffe, I had a set of equipment made by Mr. Mason. Small gear, such as mics, trackers, flashbangs, anything that I could think of that we might need and that he could build in under two days."

"I see. Well done, I suppose, especially since it seems that you did in fact need it. Just, next time make sure to tell me about it, all right? I can then pitch it to the other scientists, or to Hogarth. Maybe some of it can be made on a larger scale, or repurposed or something, or even marketed." Michael advised, getting a grunt of acknowledgement from Harper.

"Will do, sir. After we rendezvoused, I asked Miss Jones to take the Doctor to my room and protect him there, while I went to the room they had rented. I started listening to the hidden mic, and after approximately 6 minutes, I heard two men talking, asking the clerk which room two people matching the description of Miss Jones and Dr. Sterns had rented, which confirmed my suspicion that we were being watched. Knowing that the men would be coming to my room, I settled in to wait for them, messaging Miss Jones that she and Dr. Sterns should remain put."

"All right. So these unknowns, they what? Just knocked on your door?"

"They did, sir. I could tell that they were surprised to see me, and they asked me about the whereabouts of Dr. Sterns specifically. When I asked for verification, they just told me they were CIA, but they didn't produce any ID. After I refused to give up the location of Dr. Sterns, they got angry. One of them said to the other that 'they didn't have time for this shit', and pulled a gun on me."

"Really? Clearly they were misinformed about your abilities then, so that's a relief at least. Then what happened?" Michael asked.

"He shot me in the head, sir."

Jessica barely withheld a snort of laughter at Michael's dumbfounded expression as he took in Harper's characteristically blunt answer.

"Ah. I see. And then what did you do?"

"I put him through the wall, sir. He didn't bother me again after that. Didn't have the proper faculties for it no more, I reckon."

"Right. Right. Most people wouldn't, I suspect." Michael said dryly, as he adjusted to Harper's flat manner of storytelling.

"How did his partner react?"

"He tried to shoot me in the head as well, sir."

"Naturally. And how did you respond? Put him through the wall as well?" Michael asked with some bleak amusement shining through in his voice.

"No, sir. I needed someone to interrogate after all. So I just closed my hand around the barrel. Messed it up pretty bad when he tried to fire anyways, though it didn't hurt him too much. Scared the shit outta him, that's for sure though."

"A rather understandable reaction I suppose. And did you manage to interrogate him?"

"Yes I did, sir. I just asked him nicely who he was, and why he was followin' us. When he didn't want to tell me, I asked again, but less nicely. He started talking, but he lied, so I had to ask again, but a bit meaner this time. He told me the truth after that one."

It might just be the biggest understatement Jessica had ever heard in her life, told with about as much emotion as you would expect from a _toaster_. They had heard the screams all the way from the room Harper had forced her and Sterns to hide in.

After nearly fifteen minutes, the head of Security barged into their room completely covered in blood, and sirens were already closing in, so they had literally jumped out of the window (how Sterns had managed to fall without even so much as a scratch she didn't know) and had hightailed it out of the little village, not stopping until they reached this dingy motel after driving for another three hours.

"As simultaneously horrifying and intriguing as that statement is, Mr. Harper, I'm going to ignore it for now. What did you learn?" Michael asked after visibly shaking himself.

"They were being sent by Hydra. They know that Dr. Sterns is behind most of the enhancement serums, so they wanted to grab him and force him to work Hydra. They were specifically after the Rejuvenation Serum."

"The Rejuvenation Serum? Really? I'd expected them to be more interested in Extremis, what with their raging boner for supersoldiers and whatnot. Did you get the name of the one who sent them?"

"It took quite a lot of asking, sir, but I did. Some guy by the name of Whitehall."

"… Shit."

* * *

 **AN:** Gonna be honest with you guys, I really don't think that I captured Fury's tone right. Samuel L. Jackson _always_ plays Samuel L. Jackson (much like Anthony Hopkins will always be Anthony Hopkins in every movie) but you can't just keep slapping Motherfucker in his sentences to make his characters sound like him, because all of them are slightly different from each other in subtle ways. I dunno, let me know what you think.

 **EDIT:** I made some changes to Fury's part, so hopefully I captured his tone better this time. I also tried to show that Michael isn't just rolling over for Fury, but Fury is simply content to get what little he can weasel out of him for the moment, so that he can try again at a later time from a position with leverage. At the moment, he and Michael are just sort of circling eachother, neither one really trusting the other, but also recognizing that fighting would get them nowhere. So this is Fury basically extending an olive branch. But one with thorns. 'Cause he can be a dick like that sometimes. Also cleaned up Jeri's part in order to make the actions flow better, and broke up the dialogue heavy part between Harper and Michael a bit. Let me know what you think about the changes!

 **Fun Fact:** Before settling on Spider-Man, Stan Lee considered calling the new superhero he and Ditko had created either Fly-Man or Insect-Man.

RIP Steve Ditko (1927-2018)

 _As always, a truckload of thanks to my wonderful Patrons, AndrewDC_MAC2, Thordur hrafn and Daniel Dorfman and a very warm welcome to ReaperScythe! You guys are the best! I mean, all of my readers are awesome by default, but you people are something else. In the words of All Might: Plus Ultra!_


	24. Interlude 4 - Aftermath Part II

_**Aftermath – Part II Six hours after the Massacre**_

* * *

 **Six hours after the Massacre**

Straightening her skirt out of habit, Peggy Carter raised her fist (for the first time in decennia without any wrinkles, something she was still getting used to) and knocked on the door of the hotel room in which the most infamous CEO in the world had currently moved in.

She only had to wait for a moment, before a deep rumbling voice called out to her from within the room.

"Enter!"

Turning the handle, Peggy opened the door, before slowly allowing it to fall closed behind her. However, at the very last moment, she hooked her toes around the edge of the door, keeping it from falling completely into the lock.

Almost immediately, she felt the weight of the door lessen, and let go, the door remaining in place, from a distance appearing to be closed.

This all took all of a second, and then Peggy was striding through the hallway, as if nothing had happened, and most people wouldn't even have noticed that anything had.

"Mr. McCole?"

"In here!"

Following the sound of his voice, Peggy walked into the living room, seeing the enormous CEO stretched out on the couch in front of the TV.

Wearing a fluffy white bathrobe.

For a moment, the sheer surrealism of what she was seeing made her pause, as she tried to reconcile the image of the flaming demon that had been dominating the news all day with the man who was just lying there, fluffy slippers on his feet.

Without looking away from the TV, McCole spoke up, his voice tired but calm.

"Hello, Mrs. Carter. I hadn't expected to meet you again so soon. What can I do for you?"

Shaking herself from her confusion, Peggy crossed her arms in front of her chest, her lips pressing together to form a stern line.

"What are you doing, Mr. McCole? For that matter, what are you _wearing_?"

Giving a deep sigh, McCole turned his head towards her, pushing himself up until he was resting on his elbows.

"Well, what I'm _doing_ is trying to relax a bit before I try to go and get my three hours of sleep. As you can imagine, after the day that I've had, I'm feeling exhausted. What I'm _wearing_ is a custom tailored bathrobe generously provided by the hotel. You saw what happened on the news. I felt like having a shower, and this thing is surprisingly comfortable."

Shaking her head at the man, Peggy's lips thinned even further as she fixed him with a severe look.

"So you're just going to lie there, watching _Friends_ reruns?! Do you even know what's going on out there?!"

McCole's brow furrowed as she saw irritation rise in the giant man, though he didn't get off the couch.

"Presumably, everybody's calling me a monster and menace, something to tell their children to be afraid of. Everybody and their mother is holding debates on just what needs to be done to me, because I scare them. Considering the day I've had, I don't particularly feel like listening to all that crap, hence the _Friends_ reruns."

"Well, if you _had_ been keeping an eye on the news, then you'd have known that people aren't just talking about you and your dinosaur anymore." Peggy said primly, drawing a confused look from McCole.

"Really? Huh. Not to sound vain or anything, but I'd kinda expected for me and Susan to remain news for a couple of weeks _at least_." The giant mused, and sounding just vaguely disappointed.

' _Of course does he name the_ _ **firebreathing**_ _dinosaur_ _ **Susan**_ _of all things. Why am I not surprised?'_

Not letting her thoughts show on her face, Peggy gave the man a curt nod.

"The gangs of New York, equipped with heavy futuristic weaponry and shooting up everything in sight, will tend to do that. But even that pales in comparison to six high-profile assassinations throughout various branches of the government Especially considering their rather… _bloody_ common theme."

 _That_ got his attention.

Sitting up fully on the couch, McCole fixed her with a heavy look, the glow in his eyes increasing in intensity.

"There were other assassination attempts?" he asked, getting another nod from Peggy.

"Not including the attack on Jeri Hogarth, there have been six assassination attempts, all of them on high-profile targets within the U.S. Government, all of them completed successfully, and all of them carried out in the same manner."

"What happened?" McCole asked as he stood up straight, his face set in a serious expression (which was somewhat ruined by the fluffy bathrobe, which Peggy noticed didn't quite reach the giant's knees).

"At one pm today, Senator Stern was last seen alive when he entered his office. At one-thirty pm, his secretary entered after repeatedly calling out to him, having received no response. He was found still sitting behind his desk… beheaded."

She saw Michael's eyes widen in surprise as she continued.

"Throughout the day, five more people had been found, three of them at their desks, one of them in the bathroom, and one of them at home. They were either Senators like Stern, or were attached to various branches of the military. All of them beheaded as well."

"Jezus." Michael said softly as he clasped his hands behind his back, walking over to the full-length windows of his room which offered a magnificent view of night-time New York.

"Are there any theories surrounding the murders? Any suspects, or motives, or anything like that?"

Moving over to the couch, Peggy sat primly on one of the armrests as she answered.

"See, that's the thing. Each individual had their own enemies, that much is true. But there's not a single person that they shared animosity with. A further look into the deceased's personal lives provided evidence that two of them had social circles that didn't even came into contact with the other ones. Meaning that there's no motive for killing all six of them on the same day, and thus, there aren't any obvious suspects."

McCole was nodding along, before he suddenly stopped, half-turning towards her with a confused expression on his face.

"Wait. How do _you_ know about all this? Just this morning you were stuck in a retirement home."

Rolling her eyes, Peggy smirked at the giant man.

"Like I said. The news. You really should pay more attention to it sometime, _very_ informative at times. Well, that and what Fury was willing to tell me about it."

"You spoke to Fury already? For a ninety-year old lady, you sure do move fast, Mrs. Carter." McCole asked as he turned to gaze out the windows again, with far less heat than she had expected from the man, considering the conversation he and Fury had had today.

"Well, when a ninety year old ex-Agent and former founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. shows up looking younger than he does, he's going to have a couple of questions anyways, so I thought it best to get it all sorted out as soon as possible. Had my debriefing, got my former rank back and was ordered to take on an assistant who could put together a database for me on all the things that I need catching up on. Sharon was all too happy to say yes when I asked her for the job."

"I can imagine." McCole said with a small chuckle, before she saw his burning eyes shift in the windows, looking straight at her through his reflection.

"You're being awfully openhearted about what's going on inside S.H.I.E.L.D."

"I haven't told you anything classified, now have I? After all, the most exciting thing currently happening there is the investigation into these murders, and the gossip going on about me." Peggy explained with a shrug and a smirk.

Honestly, her return had been a bit underwhelming. The people at the top, those old enough to have been rookies in S.H.I.E.L.D. when she had still been running things, they had reacted with the appropriate amount of shock upon her return (she was pretty sure she had given Pierce a heart-attack).

But for the rest of the people she had met, those she had crossed in hallways?

Nobody recognized her. She looked familiar of course, as the founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. she was sure there were still a few pictures of her around, somewhere. Combined with the fact that she had been one of Captain America's closest companions, like an honorary Howling Commando, and she had gotten more than a couple of curious looks of vague recognition, people clearly wondering just why she looked familiar to them.

But there was nobody who immediately recognized her, simply because most of the people that would have were already dead. She was the last of her generation, and it was only once she had been de-aged and healed that she truly understood what it meant to live the longest.

It just mean that the rest died first.

"So, why are you here then, Mrs. Carter? Not just to tell me that both the attack on Titan Solutions and Jeri Hogarth apparently weren't isolated incidents, I'm sure." McCole said, snapping her from her musings as the tone in the room suddenly turned a lot sharper.

Standing up from the armrest, Peggy uncrossed her arm, clasping her hands behind her back instead (with her thumb slowly moving over the grip of the handgun she had tucked in the back of her belt, hidden underneath her jacket).

"Precisely _because_ those attacks weren't isolated. Except for the fact that they do not fit at all with the other attacks. Titan Solutions was the only location targeted so heavily by the gangs, and it is the only reported instance of multiple gangs working together in this whole wave of violence." She said curtly, getting only a slow, considering nod in response.

"Well, I _did_ help out law enforcement quite a lot with the Amber Armor. Maybe they were just _really_ pissed off at me?" McCole said blithely, appearing completely unbothered by the tense spy standing not even ten feet away from him.

Then again, this was a man who had taken an entire barrage of high-powered weaponfire to the chest, and shrugged it off.

"Even then, the assassination attempt on Jeri Hogarth doesn't fit with the other assassinations." Peggy forged on.

"She _did_ say that her attacker was very insistent on trying to cut her head off. So it does fit with the general theme of the other attempts. It just didn't take with her, that's all." McCole said with a raised eyebrow.

"True enough. I'm not saying that the _way_ an attempt was made on Mrs. Hogarth's life doesn't fit in with the other assassinations. I'm saying that the attempt itself doesn't fit _at all_." Peggy said with her chin raised high, not giving an inch when McCole slowly turned around, a flat expression on his face, though his eyes were glowing very brightly now.

"What are you trying to say, Mrs. Carter?" the giant asked in a low, deep voice, but Peggy didn't hesitate in answering nonetheless.

"The other six all had functions within the U.S. Government, or one of its military branches. Jeri Hogarth is a lawyer. A good one, to be sure, but she doesn't hold the same function as the others did. Which brings us right back around to suspects and motives."

"How so?" McCole asked, but his eyes hadn't left hers for a second, and when the behemoth took a step forwards, she automatically took one backwards.

"What do these seven persons have in common? Which enemies do they share? Why were they _beheaded_ , and who has the skills to pull it off in broad daylight, at seven different locations? Just like the rest of the world, I couldn't find the answer, until I thought back to what you said before you healed me. _'An ancient enemy'_ , is what you told me."

"What exactly are you trying to get at, Mrs. Carter?" McCole asked, once again taking a step forwards, and once again she took one backwards as well.

"I'm trying to get at nothing. I'm just wondering something." Peggy said, her voice still calm, even as adrenaline began to sing in her veins in preparation of a fight.

"Wondering, _what_?"

"Am I looking at one of the ancient enemy right now?"

For a moment, silence fell across the room as McCole froze in his tracks. Peggy's fingers creeped ever so slowly around the handle of her hidden gun. She knew that it wouldn't do much, if anything at all, against the behemoth in front of her, but she bet she could buy herself some time if she shot him in the eye-

"Heh. Heheh. Haha! HAHAHA!"

Peggy's musings were rudely broken when McCole tilted his head back, letting out great bellows of laughter, which only served to make her even more nervous.

"W-Wait a second… hehe, you think, haha, you think that _I_ am Hydra?!" McCole said with wheezing laughs as he straightened to look at her with mirth in his glowing eyes.

"Seven people were targeted, six of which were successfully _beheaded_. It's clearly meant as a message, a provocation. And one of those seven, is a woman who works for you, the CEO of a company which was the sole target of an attack coordinated by multiple gangs using advanced weaponry. Clearly, _someone_ wants to hurt you and people they think are affiliated with you. Taking into consideration that you _just_ so happened to warn me of an organization famous for having beheading in their motto, and yes, the thought has crossed my mind." Peggy explained, her voice as strong as steel, despite the fact that McCole's reaction was making her slightly nervous.

"Is that why you have Captain America waiting behind the door?"

Peggy's blood turned into ice in her veins, and she couldn't quite keep her eyes from widening in shock.

"I don't know-"

"C'mon now, Mrs. Carter. One of the greatest spies in history, who _doesn't_ properly close the door behind her when she's about to confront a target? It was only to be expected that you would seek him out as soon as you were able to. I wonder, did you find him by using the address that I gave you, or did you ask someone in S.H.I.E.L.D.?" McCole asked her with an enormous grin.

For a moment, Peggy just looked at the man in surprise, before her lips pressed together as she narrowed her eyes at the men, calling over her shoulder.

"It's alright Steve. Come in."

She heard the door open and soft footsteps quickly striding through the hall, before they came to a halt a couple of feet behind her to her left. Even now, just _knowing_ that he was _right there_ , just like her not a day older than when he went under the ice… it was sending lightning through her nerves, a tingling feeling that spread to every part of her body.

She resolutely kept her eyes on McCole, afraid of losing her self-control (again) if she were to look at the man who she had loved and mourned for the better part of a century.

When she had tracked him down to that gym that McCole had written on the back of his business card, she had caught him in the middle of a workout. For a few long moments, she just stared at the man who she thought she'd lost forever.

When he turned around and saw her, he had frozen in place, and all he said was a small 'wow', followed by 'I guess I died after all'. She had slowly approached him, drinking in every inch of him, just like he was doing to her. Then, as if afraid that it would turn out to all be a bittersweet dream, she had softly laid a hand on his chest, a brilliant smile coming to her face when she felt solid skin underneath her hand.

She had swallowed a few times as she looked up into his shocked, perfectly blue eyes, before she smiled sadly at him.

"I know I'm seventy years too late. But I was wondering… do you still want to have that dance with me?"

For the following four and a half hours, there had been a mix of tears, laughs, her telling him her life story, and how the world had changed, and of course, a lot of enthusiastic… _dancing._

Though as she reminisced on what was probably the happiest day of her life, McCole's knowing grin made her consider just looking at neither man at all, instead contemplating if staring at the floor would be too out of place.

"Hello there, Captain. It's truly an honour to meet you. You've probably heard this a lot by now, but I grew up with tales about you. We used to play 'punch out Hitler' in the schoolyard you know." McCole said to Steve, his smirk turning into a genuine smile as he walked forwards, his slippers making barely making any sound as the man extended his hand.

"Ah. Yes, yes I have. It's… a bit getting used to, I suppose." Steve said in that ever-polite voice, and before she even knew it, she had turned in order to look at him.

Steve had always been the picture of physicality, while still having a natural look to him, as if he was just born as the absolute peak of humanity. But shaking hands with the enormous McCole… Peggy was starkly reminded of the tiny little man who she shared a car ride with, as he twiddled his thumbs and shyly admitted that he hadn't had much success with 'dames'.

But even then, Steve had never shied away from those that were bigger than him (which had been basically everybody) and he shook the giant's hand without a second of hesitation, powerful muscles shifting underneath the plaid button shirt that he wore.

' _God, it's like he just stepped out of a picture.'_ Peggy thought, before she managed to recollect herself.

Adjusting to her vastly younger (and more _active_ ) body was still a work in progress, after all.

"Now, Mrs. Carter. Why would I be Hydra? I healed you. I gave you the Captain's contact information. _I_ warned you about Hydra. What exactly about that screams 'Neo-Nazi' to you, I wonder?" McCole asked with a smile as he looked towards her, hands stuffed in his ridiculous fluffy bathrobe.

"Well, Hydra mainly consists out of cells, which loosely operative which each other, but are each individually focused around a single project. Red Skull was the lynchpin: without him, and if Hydra _does_ still exist after seventy years in hiding, those cells would now operate with great independence from each other. You could try to take out your rivals by having Peggy focus on them, while keeping yourself free from any suspicion by pretending to be an ally." Steve said promptly, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest.

Glancing at the supersoldier from the corner of his eye, McCole smirked a bit, keeping up his casual air.

"A bit farfetched, don't you think Captain?"

"I'm not sure. Hydra is capable of _a lot_ of things most would think are farfetched, and they aren't exactly regarded for their extraordinary sense of loyalty." Steve said coldly, his eyes staring unwaveringly into McCole's burning ones.

"Fair enough. So what was the plan here? Mrs. Carter was going to try and trick me into revealing my evil master plan, then shoot me with that toy she has kept hidden in the back of her belt? Which would fail, of course, which brings us to your part. You would heroically burst into the room and…?"

"And I'd push you out the window." Steve said calmly, not even batting an eye at McCole's incredulous look.

"Really? You'd kill me? Just like that?"

"If you turned out to be Hydra? Yeah. Just like that." Steve answered.

"Besides, would a fall from this height even kill you? We're only fourteen stories up, I'm pretty sure you could survive that." Peggy cut in, successfully masking her shock when McCole casually mentioned the pistol she had kept hidden (or failed to, apparently).

"Probably. It would be far from pleasant though." McCole answered with a shrug, appearing completely at ease with the idea of being attacked by Steve, who was widely regarded as the best soldier America (or the world, really) had ever produced.

Turning around, McCole walked over to the desk that stood at the other end of the room, rummaging through the top drawers.

"Now, I'm _not_ Hydra, but I also realize that I can't exactly prove that I'm not, since everything that I could use to convince you, you'd probably see as something that a Hydra-agent would do instead. But, what I _can_ do, is show you who _is_ in Hydra."

And with those words, McCole turned back around again, holding two usb-sticks in one hand, and three syringes in the other, two of them normal-sized, the third one worryingly large.

"On the silver stick, is a database filled with all the names of the Hydra agents that I know the identity of. It consists mainly of the leaders, so don't expect to roll up the entire organization when you cross everybody off the list: they're bound to have grunts in all kinds of places. You'll need to be thorough." McCole said seriously, holding up the usb.

"Now, on the black stick is a program me and my friends have written. If you end up going to Camp Lehigh, then you'll need to insert this stick into the computers there. It will destroy the computer system, which is incredibly advanced, though the tech is somewhat outdated at this point. This step is _essential_ if you want to defeat Hydra."

"Why. What's at Camp Lehigh?" Peggy asked as she stepped closer to Steve, steeling herself in order to not reach out to him and touch him, to convince herself that, yes, he was still _here_ , still _real_ , still _alive_.

Judging from the small twitch she saw him make when she got close to him, she knew that Steve was going through something similar.

"At Camp Lehigh, you'll find many of the answers you seek. You'll find the man who rebuilt Hydra from within the shadows. At Camp Lehigh, you'll find… Arnim Zola." McCole said with a dramatic pause, clearly enjoying the role of quest-giver.

"What? _Zola_? How!?" Steve said in shocked voice, and Peggy mirrored his reaction.

Zola had been captured in 1945, and had been in his forties even then, which would make him well over a hundred years old by now, which explained Steve's shock. But Peggy was surprised for another reason: forty years ago, the scientist had been diagnosed with an advanced stage of lung cancer, and had died not long afterwards.

She was prepared to call McCole out on it, but the knowing grin he sent her way halted her in her tracks. Because what was she going to say? People don't come back from the dead? You can't be ninety years old and still be in the prime of your life?

The world had always been a weird place (she should know that better than anyone) and in the past seventy years it apparently had gotten weirder still. Zola surviving… it was unbelievable.

Unbelievable…. but not _impossible._

"He uploaded his mind into a massive complex computer system, then allowed his physical body to die. This stick will enter his code and shred it from the inside out, essentially killing him. For good, this time." McCole explained with a proud smile, but Peggy could tell he was lying about _something_.

She just couldn't put her finger on what exactly.

"And the syringes?" Peggy asked with narrowed eyes.

"These two are for the both of you and are filled with something I like to call the Brain Booster. It's based around the same principles that reversed the effects of your Alzheimer's, Mrs. Carter. What this will do is grant you eidetic memory, advanced computing abilities, and increased information observation and assimilation speeds. Basically? You'll understand _a lot_ more, _a lot_ faster, and you'll never forget it." McCole said with a grin, wiggling the two smaller syringes back and forth as he spoke.

She could see Steve's eyes widen in surprise as McCole told them the abilities the serum would grant, but she already knew that he wouldn't go for it. Steve had volunteered for the Supersoldier Serum, because that had been the right thing to do, because he was friends with Dr. Erskine, and because he wanted to serve his country.

Accepting a serum which changed your brain from a stranger is just not something that Steve (and most people, honestly) would do, not matter the promised benefits.

Peggy on the other hand…

Looking back on her life, there were such large parts of her memory that were just… _fog_ , especially in her later years. The possibility that it would return haunted her ever since McCole had healed her. To have something that would make her unable to forget ever again…

Not allowing her troubled thoughts to show through her voice, Peggy lifted an eyebrow as she inclined her head at McCole's hand.

"And the third syringe?"

"Now _this_ one is for you specifically, Mrs. Carter. It's the Supersoldier Serum."

"What?!" Steve called out in shock again, his hands balling into fists as he intently stared at the behemoth across from them, who just gave a massive grin in response.

"The Supersoldier Serum, Captain. I have managed to reverse engineer it. Don't ask me how I got a sample in the first place, I'll never tell you. I'm not giving you any of the enhancements that I, or the people of Titan Solutions have. I believe that S.H.I.E.L.D. are the good guys, I really do. But I don't trust you with the power that I've gained for me and my people. Given that you have an ample amount of Supersoldier right there already, I can at least give you this. You're going to need it." McCole explained, walking up to them and offering her his hand.

"Peggy, what are you-" Steve started, but she quickly shut him up by softly placing a hand on his arm (which just ended up sending jolts of lighting coursing through her body again) as she turned to look at him in determination.

"Steve. I'm taking the enhancements. If you think that I'm ever going to let you to go off and fight without me ever again, then you've got another thing coming _Mr._. From now on, I'm standing by your side, but in order for me to do that, I'll need to be your _equal_. This would let me keep up with you, and there's _nothing_ you can say that would keep me from you-"

Peggy was interrupted mid-rant when she felt his lips softly cross over hers. Within moments the entire world fell away as she threw her arms around the broad shoulders of the man who had been nothing more than a half-forgotten memory for the past few decades.

As she melted into his chiselled form, clinging onto each other like a couple of love-sick teenagers, she couldn't help but smile widely into the kiss, her hand coming up to softly go through his golden hair.

' _It took seventy years. But it was worth the wait._ ' She thought blissfully to herself, the world forgotten in her moment of happiness.

It would take time, _a lot_ of time, before she and Steve had fully healed from their respective ordeals: he from suddenly finding himself in the future, with everyone he once knew was long dead, and her from regaining her youth and having to reconcile the life she had built since Steve saved the world with the man himself.

But she was convinced that they could work through it together eventually and was, for the first time in a long while, looking forwards to the future.

"Uhh, guys? Guys? Right… I'll just put the stuff over on the coffee table then…? Ok."

* * *

 **Eight hours after the Massacre**

The man stood on the balcony of his building, overlooking the glistering lights of New York City as it prepared to welcome the New Year tomorrow evening. The hustle and bustle of the city that never sleeps was a soothing balm to his senses, and he simply enjoyed the feeling of the wind crossing his bald scalp.

The peaceful moment was broken however, when he heard the door to his balcony open, soft footsteps approaching him. Irritation welled up inside him before it was quelled somewhat by his own willpower and the voice of the newcomer.

"Sir. She's here to see you now."

Turning around to face the speaker, the enormous man gave a quick nod, his face set in a determined frown.

"Thank you Wesley."

Giving a quick nod at his bosses' words, Wesley turned back and opened the door, allowing a small, hunched over old lady to shuffle onto the balcony, her walking stick tapping against the stone with her every step.

"Madame Gao. A pleasure." Fisk said in his characteristic voice, approaching the woman who only reached his waist, and yet was one of the most dangerous people he had ever dealt with.

"Xiānshēng Fisk chūjià huānyíng nǐ." ( _Mr. Fisk bids you welcome_ ) Wesley immediately began to translate.

Halting in her tracks, Gao's eyes snapped towards him, fixing him in place.

"Wǒ huì hé xiānshēng Fisk shuō. _Dāndú_." ( _I will speak with Mr. Fisk._ _ **Alone**_ _.)_

For a moment, Wesley's lips pressed together in a thin line as he gazed at the biggest heroine dealer in New York (and probably the world, though nobody was entirely sure). Then his assistant's eyes flitted towards him, and Fisk gave him a slow nod.

"It's alright Wesley. Thank you. Take the rest of the night off, go get some sleep."

It was clear that his assistance disliked leaving his boss alone with such a dangerous adversary, but dependable as always, Wesley simply gave a short incline of his head to him, and offered a small bow to Madame Gao, before he briskly left.

As the door fell closed behind his most trusted assistant, the aged lady turned to peer him with intelligent eyes, a slight smirk on her wrinkled face. Walking over towards the table in the middle of the balcony, Fisk extended a meaty hand to one of the luxury seats.

"Qǐng. Zuò xià." ( _Please. Take a seat._ )

Shuffling over towards the chair, Madame Gao sank into the soft pillows with the creak of ancient bones, keeping a keen eye on him as she did. Not wasting any time, Fisk took a seat across from her, clasping his hands in front of him.

"Nǐ xiǎng tán shénme shì shénme, Madame Gao?" ( _What is it you wanted to speak about, Madame Gao?_ ) Fisk asked in a rumbling voice, getting a tight smile from the heroine dealer.

"Please Mr. Fisk, let's talk in English. You're pronunciation is _horrible_. Who taught you?" Madame Gao asked him with a smirk, and Fisk wisely decided not to point out just how heavily accented her own English was.

"A private tutor…" Fisk said softly, prompting a scoff from the ancient woman across from him.

"Bah! You should have his fingers removed."

Putting aside what he should or shouldn't do to the people in his employ, Fisk sat a bit straighter in his chair, towering over the aged lady even as they were seated.

"Madame Gao. What is it, that you wanted to, _speak_ to me about?"

Narrowing her eyes at him, Gao placed both of her wrinkled hands on top of her cane.

"It is thanks to _us_ , that the weaponry given to the gangs of New York by Ulysses Klaue, has found its way into _your_ hands. It is thanks to _us_ , that the other gangs are weakening themselves in this battle they are waging against each other, _and_ the police, which will allow for _your_ expansion, Mr. Fisk."

"And I am, _grateful_ , for that, Madame Gao, to both you and your friends."

"Yes. And it is good to be grateful to the hand that feeds you. But gratefulness, is quite useless to us, unless it's backed up by _action_." Gao said sharply, and Fisk finally knew why the old lady had decided to visit him in the dead of the night.

He knew that by partnering with the Hand, he'd owe them favours, especially after they made sure that those Wakandan weapons eventually found their ways into his hands.

He just hadn't expected them to want to cash in on those favours so soon.

"And what action would the Hand wish, for me to undertake." Fisk said, weighing his options.

"Your men have advanced weaponry, thanks to us. They have advanced armour, thanks to your connections within the police. Now it is time to use them."

"You want me to launch an attack? On whom?" Fisk asked, though he had an idea already.

"The demon known as Michael McCole. We had not expected our last attack to have such little effect on the creature, but at least we tore down his building and killed some of his people." Gao said easily, as if she was talking about something utterly mundane, like trimming the hedges.

' _So that_ _ **was**_ _you. I suspected it the moment I saw people from Cottonmouth and Colon working_ _ **together**_ _. Just how aware are they that they are puppets on your strings, I wonder.'_ Fisk thought to himself, though he was careful to keep any of them from showing on his face.

"Like you said, the man personally was hardly affected by the attack. And there's no building left to destroy. Why would an attack now change anything?" Fisk asked carefully, loathing the idea of throwing away perfectly good equipment on a fool's errand.

"Because, McCole will act out of anger. He knows we exist. He knows who we _are_. He _will_ try to strike back. The Hand asks that _you_ , who has profited so much from all this chaos, to block his strike. Bring the demon to his knees, and your debt to the Hand shall be considered, to be paid in full. You'll become a full partner to us, Mr. Fisk. There are very few people in the world that can boast such a status, and _they_ are all at the heads of organizations, _far_ older than yours." Gao said imperiously, her soft voice showing hidden power as she spoke.

Still, Fisk could spot the slightest cracks in her impressive façade.

' _They're rattled. They're clearly uncomfortable with the lack of anonymity, and they didn't expect McCole to come out of their surprise attack unharmed, just like his lawyer, apparently. All this, is just to ask me to be a meatshield between them and the wrath of McCole.'_

This… yes, he could definitely work with this.

"Of course. My people are yours to command, Madame Gao" Fisk said, as he gave a short bow with his head.

No need to tip her off to the fact that they most definitely _wouldn't_ be. But let them figure that out for themselves when McCole reduced them to stains on the ground. The criminal scum of New York was tiring itself out as the Hand guided them into taking their new weapons for a test run. He practically _owned_ the police. Only the Hand now remained as a serious contender to him, and they had just pissed of one of the most powerful beings on the planet.

In the end, he _alone_ would stand tall above the dregs of New York.

"Will my men be asked to perform assassination attempts as well? They would be willing, of course. However, we do not possess the fabled skills of the Hand…" Fisk trailed off when Gao suddenly held up her hand, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

"You must work on your subtlety more, Mr. Fisk. That attempt to try and figure out if we were behind the beheadings today was _painfully_ obvious. If you wish to stand on equal footing with the _Hand_ , you'll need to be able to conceal your thoughts better." Gao said sternly, and Fisk easily kept his grin from showing on his face as he adopted a chastised expression, once again bowing his head.

"I see. I apologize. I shall vow to work on it more, in the future."

"See that you do. You have _great_ potential Mr. Fisk. Your handling of events these past weeks is proof of that. To anyone else, it would seem as a great coincidence that, no matter _what_ happens in the chaos of this city, it always comes to benefit _you_ in the end." Gao said, standing up from her chair with creaking joints, clearly making an end to this conversation.

Fisk rose with her, and as he towered above her, he turned around in order to look at the vibrant lights of the greatest city on earth, a grim smile coming to his face as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"A coincidence? No Madame Gao, there is no coincidence. After all…" Fisk trailed off, looking over his shoulder to see that he was now alone on the balcony, the aged lady nowhere to be seen.

Turning back to the amazing skyline, Fisk allowed his small smile to grow into a full-blown grin, his eyes gleaming with thoughts of the future.

"… I _am_ this city."

* * *

 **AN:** More comicbook!Fisk here than MCU!Fisk, but D'Onofrio (while absolutely _brilliant_ ) has a distinctive way of speaking that's nearly impossible to capture in written form. I ended up cutting an entire POV from this part of the Interlude. Originally it was going to be Tony, but while we would learn how he reacts to Michael, it doesn't necessarily add anything _vital_. And considering we're dealing with a serious case of Arc Fatigue here, I cut it entirely. Then I wanted to replace it with a conversation between Pierce and Whitehall, where Pierce berated Whitehall for acting so openly, while all they need to do is lay low and wait for Project Insight to start. It had some good stuff, but again, it wouldn't really impact the plot (it was more relevant to Peggy/Steve's story, instead of Michael's), so I was merciless and I cut that out as well. Also, good news! I've found a way to mush the last two chapters of this goddamned Arc together in a way that fits, it has a power-up for Michael (we went far too long without one) and I've got an ending I can't get out of my head for the past two days, which means that by the next chapter we can _finally_ leave this Arc behind us! Yay!

 **Fun Fact:** After the Vietnam War and Watergate Scandal, Captain America became so disillusioned with the US government that he became "The Nomad", donning a costume which ditched the stripes and stars.

 _As always, I wish to extend my heartfelt thanks to my wonderful Patrons, AndrewDC_MAC2, Thordur hrafn, Daniel Dorfman and ReaperScythe! Thanks so much for your support, it really does mean a lot to me!_


	25. Year of the Dragon

_**The year of the Dragon**_

* * *

 **December 31st, 2011 01:03**

"C'mon Burstein, just get on with it."

"I'm really not sure about this, Michael. Look, it's one am right now, why don't we all just go back to our beds and sleep on it a bit more?"

"Look Noah, trust me on this, alright? What-"

"If you're going to ask 'what could possibly go wrong' I'll walk through that door, _right now_."

"Of course not, I know better than to tempt fate like _that_! No, I was going to ask, what makes you think this isn't a good idea?"

"Where do I even begin?" Burstein asked with a deep sigh, as he let himself fall down on the couch in my hotelroom.

Steve and Peggy had left a couple of hours ago, Peggy having taken both the Supersoldier Serum and the Brain Booster right then and there, while Steve declined the Brain Booster. He offered that he take it with him in order to think further about it, but I shut that down hard.

I had no trouble enhancing people to the point that they'd become a real problem for my enemies, without truly becoming a threat to myself, but I wasn't just going to give S.H.I.E.L.D. enhancements on a silver platter.

They had Captain America working for them for a couple of years before their fall, and they hadn't managed to reverse engineer the serum, meaning that they probably wouldn't be able to reverse it from Peggy's body either, with the same applying to the Brain Booster.

As for Peggy herself, taking the Supersoldier serum had toned her up, giving her the body of a top athlete, but there weren't any drastic changes like Steve had gone through. The Brain Booster caused that familiar wide-eyed look that all people enhanced with it got, gazing in wonder as they first experienced the new way their mind interpreted the world around them.

Sending them on their way with the sticks in their pockets and with Peggy staring with a wondering look at everything in her surroundings (including an amusingly long glance at Steve), I had dug up the research me and Sterns had done on Jessica's blood and called up Burstein to my room, though my mind kept lingering on the two supersoldiers that I had sent away.

One stick did in fact have the database with names on it like I had told them (minus a few scientists that I wanted to get my hands on myself, like Whitehall, for instance). The other one, on the other hand…

I had long ago realized that my human body was unlikely to handle the strain of becoming omnipotent. The various enhancements I had given it had gone a long way in me being able to handle far more power than a baseline human would (between my durability and regeneration, I feel fairly confident I can handle at least one Infinity Stone, though probably not for any prolonged amounts of time) but it was unlikely to be enough.

At some point, it was very likely that I'll need to build myself a better body.

Now, who did I know that had successfully moved his mind from his body to another medium, and just so happened to be at a location that I had just sent two supersoldiers to?

The stick would enter Zola's code, that much was true. But after that, it wouldn't shred it: it would _copy_ it, or at least as much of it as its data storage capacity would allow (which was _a lot_ ). There was so much I could learn from how Zola had cheated death, it would be a shame to just allow him to blow himself up.

Oh, he was a real Nazi _bastard_ (he had joined both the S.A. and the S.S., before even joining Hydra) and I was definitely going to kill him.

But not before I had squeezed every last drop of knowledge that I could from him.

"Look, Michael. There's a _reason_ why we held off with enhancing Jessica." Burstein began tiredly, snapping me from my musings.

Half-turning on the couch, he gave me a grave look.

"We still don't know exactly what her energy field is, not to mention how it would interact with other powers. It's keyed into her genetic structure-"

"Which is precisely why it _will_ work on me." I interrupted, getting an inquisitive look from the tired scientist.

"We can't enhance Jessica with any major DNA-altering serums, because those serums might have unforeseen consequences and might interact with the sequences that are responsible for her powers. But my DNA has already _been_ changed. We know which sequences need to be altered in order to give me her powers-"

"We don't _know_. We suspect, we hypothesize, but we don't _know_ , Michael. The same dangers that apply to Jessica apply to you as well! For all we know, you might get the powerfield, and then Extremis sets it on _fire_!"

At this point, Burstein had jumped up from the couch and was pacing in front of the full-length windows.

And he was right too.

My DNA had already been altered, meaning that we could make _targeted_ changes in its structure, mirroring those made in Jessica's genetic template, as opposed to the massive overhaul Jessica would experience from, say, the Extremis virus.

The end-result was equally unpredictable though.

Still, my mind had been made up. This was the whole reason why I had approached Jessica in the first place.

I would not be denied flight.

"Burstein." My voice cut through the worried mumbles of the pacing scientist, who looks up at me with resigned eyes.

"I did the research. Sterns did the research. _You_ did the research. This is going to work."

"But why now?! Michael, we just took the biggest hit in our lives, why are you taking this risk now? Can't you at least wait until we have a proper base, proper _facilities_ -"

" _Noah_."

At my unyielding voice, the scientists falls silent, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he walks over to the large coolbox that had been sitting in the middle of the room.

"Very well."

And with those morose words, he unclasps the lid, before removing several vials of liquid, multiple syringes, and a Vibranium needlepoint, which will be placed on the syringes so they can pierce my skin.

As he's unpacking the equipment that he'll need, he looks up at me from the corner of his eye.

"You know that, even with these tips, it's going to take someone with superstrength to actually punch through your skin, right? I'm not strong enough to apply the sufficient amount of pressure."

Giving a slow nod, a plan starts to come together in my mind as I grab my phone from the nightstand (just a regular one made of plastic), quickly dialling a now familiar number.

There are only two rings before the phone is picked up.

"Hogarth here. Who is this?" comes a gruff voice, but not at all tired or sleepy, despite the late hour.

"Hello Jeri. Michael here. Can you come by my room please? I need your help with something, and while you're here, I want to discuss something with you. It involves our mutual dislike for a certain appendage."

"… I'll be there in twenty minutes."

* * *

Eighteen minutes later, Jeri Hogarth knocked on my door, clad impeccably in her suit and with the most determined look on her face I've ever seen on her.

"Come on in." I say as I walk back into the room, hearing how Jeri closes the door behind her, soft steps following behind me.

"What did you want to discuss Michael?" Jeri asks, only lifting an eyebrow when she spots Burstein carefully bustling around in the impromptu lab he set up in the living room, but otherwise not reacting to the strange sight.

"I'm going to cripple the Hand." I say bluntly, and now Jeri's second eyebrow joins the first one as it is lifted in surprise, right before she gives me an impressive scowl, both eyes flaring up with the familiar hue of Extremis, which I administered to her the moment after the clean-up of my former HQ had been completed, restoring her eye.

"Only _cripple_?" she asks coolly, but I can hear the hate in her voice.

"Sadly, yes. There are five leaders of the Hand, each called a Finger. There are currently four Fingers in New York, but the fifth one, Sowande, is currently a warlord in Africa, and for the moment out of our reach." I explain, deepening the scowl on Jeri's face even further.

"The four in New York. Who are they, and how are we going to kill them?"

"They are Madame Gao, Bakuto, Murakami, and their leader, Alexandra Reid."

"Alexandra Reid? The name sounds familiar…" Jeri muses, getting a nod from me.

"She is one of New York's upper elite, the 1% of the 1%. I'm not surprised you know about her." I explain.

"Meaning she'll be hard to get to." Jeri concludes as she crosses her arms.

"I've given Sterns a call, he's trying to track her down as best as he can, but who knows how long it takes until he can give us a location, like her home address or something. So while he's doing that, we'll focus on the ones that we _do_ know how to get to."

"I assume this is where I come in?" Jeri asked as she leaned against the back of the couch.

"Yes, you'll be focusing on drawing Madame Gao out of hiding. She's a heroin dealer, and works out of several sweat shops in the shittier parts of New York. Very difficult to track down: since everything's illegal and off the books, there's no paper or digital trail to follow, at least not fast. Which means we make her come to us."

"And just how do we do that? I hope you're not going to suggest breaking up her drug trade or something. I'm not against taking drugs off the street, but that's going to take ages." Jeri said with a frown.

"No, we go after something far more valuable. You see, Gao has been using Rand as the infrastructure for her distribution. So we go after the man who controls Rand."

"You want to go after _Ward_?" Jeri asks gobsmacked, clearly taken off guard that the company where she started her career at as a lowly intern was now used to facilitate a drug smuggling ring.

"No. We go after the man who controls Ward. We go after _Harold_." I say with a sly grin, which only widens when I see Jeri's confused, disbelieving expression.

"Michael. Harold has been dead for _seven years_."

"Nope. He died seven years ago, that much is true. But the Hand resurrected him, and he now controls Rand from the shadows, telling his son what to do." I reveal, and for a moment it seems as if Jeri wants to scoff at the sheer ridiculousness of the statement.

But then the events of the last 24 hours catch up to her, and the words die in her throat.

For a moment, she's silent and the only noise in the room is the soft tinkling of glass and instruments as Burstein is diligently working in his little lab.

"The Hand… they can really… can they really do that? Bring someone back from the dead?" Jeri asks in a small voice, completely at odds with the stone cold lawyer I've known her as.

I immediately catch on to her hidden question, and I don't have to fake my sympathy as I walk over towards her, laying a hand about as large as her head softly on her shoulder, making her look into my softly burning eyes.

"No. Not anymore. They need a special substance in order to do it, but they've run out, or they will very soon. A single dose allows a person to come back from the dead, again and again, but each time they do, there's… _less_ , that returns. They go mad. They'll kill the ones closest to them first." I say to Jeri, who closes her eyes in acceptance.

It was something that had been bothering me for a very long time actually. Harold Meachum died and came back multiple times on just a single treatment with the Elixir. The tale that Yang, leader of the Triads, told Ward about a man from his great-grandfathers village also indicated that the farmer kept coming back from the dead multiple times.

So why were the Fingers so dependent on the Elixir, if it kept bringing people back multiple times?

My current theory was that when left to its own devices, the Elixir would bring the bodies back at least a couple of times, but the mind kept breaking down bit by bit. You needed a fresh shot of the Elixir to keep your mind intact when you resurrected, or at least, that was the theory that I was currently working under.

Which meant that I had to assume that if I killed the Fingers, they would be able to resurrect on their own, though a bit less sane than before.

Meaning that I would need to be… _thorough_.

"So what's the plan then? I put pressure on Ward, he leads me to Harold and then Harold leads me to Gao?" Jeri asked, and I shook my head.

"Almost. Yes, Ward will give you Harold, but he wouldn't be able to point you in the direction of Gao. We'll need to make her come to him. Harold is forced to work for them, and he's chafing under their rule. You need to convince him that, not only are we willing to kill the Hand, we're fully _capable_ of it too. Make him antagonize the Hand enough that Gao will show up to set him straight."

"What if she realizes that it's a trap? What if she sends her underlings, instead of showing up in person?" Jeri put forwards, but I waved her concern off.

"If she does, then all she will have done is give us more leads to her location. Everybody talks. _Eventually_."

I can hear Burstein pause at my ominous words, before he continues working in silence, but if Jeri's unsettled then she doesn't show it, her face on of utmost determination.

"Fine. That's Gao. What about Murakami and Bakuto?"

"Finding Bakuto is going to be relatively easy. He has a student here in New York, and a dojo somewhere nearby. I don't know the exact location of the dojo, but I _do_ know where the student is. I'll take care of her, while you take care of Harold." I explain, getting a nod from Jeri.

"And this Murakami?"

"One of their most enigmatic members. His lieutenant and at least one of his corporations are based in New York, but from what I know about him personally, he spends a lot of time in Japan. There's every chance that he's not in New York right now. So I've got Sterns looking for any mention of his man instead, Nobu Yoshioka."

Getting told that yet another leader of the Hand might be out of reach clearly annoys Jeri, so I easily placate her growing anger.

"There was no chance of us killing the Hand in a single blow, Jeri. They are too widespread for that, they have too many connections. But Alexandra is in New York, and we will get our hands on Gao and Bakuto, giving us a lead to her. With those three taken out, only Sowande and Murakami remain. Murakami never did much care for the other Fingers and I can see him choosing to remain in Japan indefinitely. I don't know much about Sowande, but if he's in Africa, he'll inevitable have to deal with Wakanda, and immortal or not, that's going to be difficult enough for him that he won't focus on New York. That leaves their forces here in enough disarray that Hydra will be able to mop up their grunts."

"Hydra?" Jeri asks with surprise, getting a nod from me.

"Those six people that got assassinated? Those were Hydra agents. There _will_ be a backlash, but I've managed to move certain people in places that will put pressure on them, meaning that they'll focus on their own anonymity first and foremost, severely reducing their striking power. But the disorganized remains of a hidden ninja-organization? Hopefully, pitting two weakened forces against each other like that will cause for mutual destruction."

 _That_ clearly pleases Jeri, who gives me a tight smile as her eyes begin to burn with vicious anticipation.

With the basics of a plan in place, I turn towards Burstein, who I can tell has only been pretending to be busy for a couple of minutes in order to give me and Jeri some privacy as we contemplated murder.

"Is everything ready?"

Giving a brisk nod, the disgruntled scientist walks over to Jeri, a row of five syringes held neatly in a little rack.

"Michael, sit on the bed please." He asks without much warmth in his voice, clearly still not on board with the risky procedure I'm forcing him to do.

Following his instructions, I watch as he explains to Jeri which syringe she needs to inject me with in which order and on which place on my body, switching out the Vibranium tip with each shot.

Without much fuss, Jeri accepts the first syringe, places the Vibranium tip on it, and jams it unceremoniously into the side of my neck, drawing a surprised grunt from me. She repeats the process twice more, before she's forced to stop, the point of the Vibranium glowing a worrying red.

Without saying a word, Burstein takes the glowing tip from Jeri's outstretched palm with a pair of tongs, drops it in a metal tray filled with water, which bubbles and hisses when he drops the Vibranium needle in it.

Handing her another Vibranium tip, Jeri quickly finishes up the final two shots, and just in time as well, because I've been feeling progressively worse and worse with each passing second ever since the first injection.

As the room starts spinning, I can hear the muffled voices coming from Burstein and Hogarth, but I put them out of my mind as I drag myself towards the bathroom, uncaring that my hands are digging deep furrows into the walls as I try to grab a handhold.

Suddenly I can feel someone lifting me up, and lolling my head to the side, I can see the lithe form of Jeri as she slings my arm over her shoulders, carrying me towards the bathroom.

I crash to the tiles in front of the toilet boil (shattering them as I do) and before I can stop myself, I'm throwing up, feeling like absolute shit. As the worst wave of nausea finally passes, I manage to open my eyes somewhat, staring forlornly at the ruined remains of the toilet in front of me.

"Huh. I didn't know you threw up lava." I can Jeri muse, before I'm hurling again.

Eventually, I'm just completely spent, and Jeri drags me towards the bed, which Burstein has covered in several Amber Armor sheets. For a moment I'm confused, until I notice that I'm steaming.

I'm heating up more and more, and my sweat immediately evaporates. My bathrobe is already charring in places. If I had lain down like this, then there's a very good chance that I've would've set my room on fire in mere minutes.

As I drop down onto the bed with a pained grunt, even as Jeri strips my bathrobe from me (given that she bats for the other team, there's nothing I got that she's all that interested in, and Burstein is a medical professional so he just ignores it with practiced ease), I try to feel the changes occurring in my body.

Ever since I had taken all those Heart-shaped Herbs, I had an unparalleled feeling of my body, feeling it down to every single muscle fibre. It was what had given me my new sense of superhuman agility and balance, but now I was using that sense to try and feel out just what the hell was happening to me.

And it wasn't good.

The changes in my DNA were happening alright, but my body was fighting it, my healing factor seeing the changes as foreign and as such as something that needed to be repelled and fixed.

' _No! No, it's alright, let the change happen! For_ _ **fuck's**_ _sake, this is_ _ **my**_ _body!_ _ **Listen to me!**_ _'_ I roar inside my mind, over and over again as I try and force my body to stop fixing me.

Slowly, oh so very slowly, I can feel how the heat in my body starts to die down. I can _feel_ how my body stops fighting the changes in my DNA as it obeys my command. It increases the nausea ten times over, but so far, every procedure I had performed on myself was accompanied by absolute agony, so I could deal with some nausea.

Far away in the background, I can hear Burstein talking to me in an urgent tone, but his voice is muffled and I can't make out the words. So I wave him off with a weak twitch of my arm, as instead I keep focusing inwards, trying to guide my body into accepting the changes, forcing it to stop fighting with all of my willpower.

Slowly, my vision starts to darken, and even as I can feel _something_ settle inside of myself, I drift off into unconsciousness.

* * *

 **December 31st, 2011 7:56**

The first thing I hear is snoring. I'm pretty sure it's not me, considering that I'm currently in the process of waking up, so with monumental effort, I open my eyes (it feels as if someone replaced my eyelids with lead or something) and look around me.

It takes a few moments before I recognize my surroundings, but eventually everything comes back to me. The fact that I'm lying in a hotelroom, because my HQ was reduced to rubble due to an attack by the gangs using Wakandan weaponry, so I killed them and then I wanted to go after the Hand, so I had Burstein enhance me-

As that last thought crashes into my brain, I shoot up straight in my bed, only vaguely noticing the leather sheets underneath me. I immediately try to replicate what I had done early this morning, trying to 'look' inwards into my own body.

There's definitely… _something_.

My senses had been enhanced by the various serums inside me, but they had skyrocketed ever since the Heart-shaped Herb, especially my sense of self. And I could sense there was _power_ inside me.

I wasn't sure what this power was (was it chi? My weird-ass soul? Extremis, maybe?), or even whether it was something new, or something that had always been there.

I needed to test this. A _strength_ test wasn't really possible here (punching through a wall or something was something that I had been capable of for some time now, and there was nothing in the hotel that could have strained my previous level of strength), so in order to see if the procedure was successful or not, I'd have to determine whether or not I could _fly_.

But how to go about it?

Should I go to an open clearing, jump as high as I could and then try to miss the ground on my way down? I could also of course just go to the roof of the hotel and then jump off the building, figuring it out on the way down. Even if it turned out that I _couldn't_ fly, the fall would maybe hurt a bit, but I'd be fine in moments anyways.

I was drawn from my musings by the door to the room opening, and after a few moments, Jeri Hogarth entered into my field of vision, two coffees held in one hand, and a paper bag in the other.

With barely a glance, she tossed the bag onto the couch, which gave a disgruntled 'oomph!'. For a moment, I just sleepily blinked at the suddenly sentient furniture, before I saw Burstein work himself to a sitting position, holding the bag in his hands as he blearily picked out a donut out of it.

As he began munching on it with a vacant stare, I was drawn from my own sluggish musings as I saw Hogarth standing by the side of the bed, one coffee held out to me.

"Good, you're awake."

Accepting the coffee with a tired grunt, I try and wash away the disgusting taste lingering in my mouth, even as I try to blink the grit from my eyes.

"So did it work?" Jeri's voice cut through my sluggish thoughts, forcing me to look up at her as I took another sip from my coffee, only now noticing an ache going through my entire body, all the way from my skin to my bones.

"Only one way to find out."

About a an hour and a half later, I and Burstein (Jeri went off to secure a meeting with Ward Meachum) are standing in the middle of a grassy field in the middle of nowhere outside New York, with the scientist still blinking away the sleep in his eyes.

I on the other hand am fully awake now, having spent the time trying to go over my body as the pain slowly started to fade. There was definitely _some_ sort of power inside me now, so all I had to do was draw it out until I was surrounded in a field, just like Jessica naturally was.

As Burstein's computer has finished booting up, the scientist gives an almighty yawn, before visibly shaking himself.

"Alright Michael, this is Test One: Unpowered Flight. Ready when you are." Burstein says behind the foldout table which is covered in laptops, measuring equipment and camera's.

Closing my eyes and widening my stance somewhat, I dig deep inside myself, but it's a slow going process.

The Heart-shaped Herb has given me unparalleled senses, but this is a two-edged sword. I can clearly feel the energy inside me (how is it produced anyways? No! _Focus_ , Michael!), but I can also feel the grass brushing against my boots, the wind smoothly crossing over my scalp. 'Looking' further inside myself doesn't just give me sense of the energy, it also allows me to feel my own heartbeat and how my muscles in my legs are coiled.

It takes nearly fifteen minutes before I finally get a 'hold' of the energy-

"Yes!"

-which slips through my grasp the moment my intense focus fades even the slightest amount due to my excitement.

It takes only thirteen minutes the next time I try to grasp the energy inside myself, and this time I can hold it for about five minutes, before I can hear a bird chirp in the distance and I lose it again.

Slowly but surely, it takes me shorter and shorter amounts of time to get to the new energy inside me, and I can keep it in place longer and longer. Eventually, after nearly forty-five minutes, I feel that I've gotten a good enough grasp on it, that I open my eyes.

Seeing this, Burstein sits a bit straighter in his plastic chair, pulling down his scarf as he gives me a questioning look. Giving a nod of my own, I bend at the knees, keeping my focus inwards…

And then I _jump_.

The snow around me is blasted back as I rocket off into the air, cratering the ground underneath me and tearing up great chunks of dirt. After about six stories, I can feel my momentum lessen, but I keep my will focused solely on the energy inside myself.

And then as I slowly start to descend, I _pull_.

I'm so focused on sensing inwards, that it takes me a couple of moments before I realize something very important.

I haven't hit the ground yet.

Opening my eyes against the gales of wind surrounding my body, I gaze in wonder as I see the clouds rapidly approaching me. Looking down, I can see the ground falling away, a wildly gesturing Burstein becoming smaller and smaller.

Leaning a bit to the side, I start falling away to the side, before I try to adjust my course by leaning to the other side, which throws me into a dizzying spin.

Turns out, steering is going to take a bit of practise.

Coming to a sudden halt in the hair by just going spread-eagled and focusing all of my thoughts on _STOP_ , I'm just hanging there, slightly out of breath as excitement starts to bubble inside of me, eventually coming out in great bellows of laughter.

I'm _flying_.

It wasn't the first time, as I had done it a few times in the first few versions of my armour, but I hadn't done it very often and it was a completely different kind of feeling.

Flying in my armour had felt as if I had strapped a go-kart to my body and was then stuck in a never-ending rollercoaster.

But _this_ …

It's difficult to put into words, but try to imagine swimming. But there's no resistance around you, no effort, no _weight_. You're just floating there, in absolute freedom.

Hearing faint shouts coming from the ground far below me, I focus back on the tiny Burstein, who is still waving excitedly at me.

Drawing from my experience flying my kit bashed Iron Man suit, I slowly float over until I'm hanging in the air a couple of feet in front of Burstein above the crater I made during my jump, at an altitude that would put me at the same height as some of the shorter skyscrapers in New York.

And then I cut the power.

Immediately I start plummeting like a rock, and a laugh escapes me as I feel like I'm in one of donut-things you see in amusement parks, only a thousand times faster and more exhilarating.

In only a couple of seconds I've descended to the ground, my booted feet slamming into the ground with a thunderous crash, producing a shockwave of dust and air, nearly bowling over Burstein who's standing not twenty feet away from my impact zone.

Stepping outside of the second crater I've made (and besides a slight stinging feeling in my ankles which is gone in seconds, I'm completely unharmed), I turn towards Burstein with the biggest grin of my life on my face.

For a couple of moments, the scientist just stares at me with an open mouth, before he slowly leans over to his laptop, pressing a single button.

"Test One… success."

* * *

 **December 31st, 2011 10:38**

Standing in the shade a large tree on the edge of a small park, hood up, cap on my bald head and sunglasses in front of my burning eyes, I keep watch on the door of the building across the street from me, meanwhile reading a text that Hogarth sent me.

 _-Got meeting w/ W.M. Will update. JH.-_

As I hear the door open, I slide the piece of plastic into my pocket as I watch in thinly veiled amusement as a bunch of sweat covered children slowly trickle outside, going off on their own ways, either alone or in groups of two or three.

When the last kid has left, I bend at the knees, before shooting off into the sky, making sure that I don't produce any shockwaves or loud noises, before landing on top of the now empty building.

It's amazing, just how little humans think about ever looking up.

Making my way over to the stairwell, I quickly descend a few floors, before I come to the right one. As I walk further into the hall, my eyes fall on a door with a logo painted on its dark wood.

Chikara Dojo.

The smile that crosses my face is completely void of warmth, before I school it in into a more inviting expression. Giving a quick knock, I can hear footsteps approaching the door, before it's swung open, and I focus on the little woman in front of me.

"Hello, Miss Wing. May I come in?"

Even as I talk, I take an step forwards, but unlike literally everybody else I have ever used this tactic on, little Miss Wing doesn't even so much as flinch, even as we now stand chest to chest to each other.

"No. You may not. Leave." She says clearly and stone-faced, her eyes staring unwaveringly into my burning ones.

I had expected for the spitfire to be a bit difficult to handle, but I hadn't expected this level of hostility right off the bat.

Taking yet another step, which means that we're almost touching each other right now, I loom in the doorway, a smile still on my face though my eyes are now burning like hellish embers, and judging by the way she tenses her muscles, I can tell that she knows I'm losing my patience.

"I'm afraid I must insist. May I come in."

It wasn't voiced as a question, and Colleen knows that she can't stop me from just literally walking over her, so she grudgingly takes a step back into her dojo, giving a short jerk with her head.

"I can call the police on you, you know." She tells me as she walks over to stand in front of me again, her arms crossed in front of her.

"You could, yes. You're not going to, however." I admit easily, as I close the door behind me.

"Oh? And why is that?" she asks me sarcastically, though her sneer falters when I turn back to face her, and she sees my face as I allow a bit of my real emotions to leak through into my expression.

"Because you don't want the police here, Miss Wing. Because if they do, it's not just me they'll be asking questions, but you as well. There will be many, of course, but I think my favourite one would be 'how exactly did you first come into possession of this dojo?'." I rumble as I slowly approach the martial artist, who quickly moves backwards, matching me step for step.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Colleen says quickly, but her widened eyes tell me that she's rattled by the covert reference to her sensei.

Well then, let's see what _overt_ shall accomplish.

"Miss Wing. Where is Bakuto's hideout?"

At the name of the man who taught her everything she knew, Colleen freezes in place, her eyes widening in surprise and fear.

"I… I don't-"

"Do _not_ lie to me, Miss Wing. If you've been following the news lately, then you can understand that I'm in a _very_ bad mood. I know the Hand was behind the attack. I know that Bakuto is one of the five Fingers. And I know that he has a compound somewhere in the vicinity of New York, where he takes in the lost souls of this world, so he can brainwash them into perfect little soldiers at his leisure. The _only_ thing I don't know is where the fucking thing _is_. _You_ do."

Her face goes white as I reveal my knowledge, and her eyes dart to her where her bedroom is, where she keeps that white katana of hers. Both of us know that it won't do her any good against me, but it's a warrior's instinct to have a weapon in hand when facing an enemy.

And the moment I dropped her sensei's name, I became an enemy in her eyes.

Now, back in my old life, I thought that Colleen Wing was a pretty badass character, both in the Defenders show, as well as in Iron Fist (though I had always felt that she lost a lot of her badass-status the moment she hooked up with Danny and started playing second-fiddle to him). There were even a few rumours floating around that she would make an appearance in the second season of Luke Cage, but I switched universes before that came out, so I never found out whether those rumours were true or not.

The point is, as a _character_ , I rooted for Colleen because I thought she was a badass lady.

But she wasn't a character anymore.

Right now, she was an obstacle.

"I'm going to _ask_ this only once, Miss Wing. If you refuse to answer, or if you _lie_ , then I'll stop asking. I'll start _demanding_ instead. And I can guarantee you, you will not like it when I am forced to demand something." I growl lowly as I keep advancing on the young woman, even as her back hits the wall of her dojo.

Looming over her, I bend down until our eyes are on the same height, and I will mine to burn even brighter, until they're filled with a hellish glow which Colleen is forced to look away from.

"Where. Is. _Bakuto_."

For a few moments, her mouth opens and closes, and it seems as if she's about to give him up after all. Then I can spot a subtle twitch in her stance, and I know that she's made her choice.

Too bad it's the wrong one.

With her skill, and with how close I am leaning in, there's no way for me to dodge her strike, and her elbow slams into my left eye (figures someone trained by the Hand would spot that single weakness from the news coverage of the fight) and as I instinctively rock back despite the fact that I'm not hurt all that much, she uses the opening to dash towards her living room.

Blinking my eye a couple of times until it's fully repaired itself in a few seconds, I turn towards her living room as well, and with a few quick strides I'm standing inside it. Spotting what is likely her bedroom, I stomp towards it, throwing open the door with a loud bang.

For a moment, I look in surprise at the empty room, before I spot movement from the corner of my vision, right as Colleen descends towards me from the top corner of the room she had been hiding in, her blade out and flashing in the low light of the room.

Annoyance flashes within me when I notice that she's again aiming for my eye, but I have a bit more space to move in now, so I dodge the strike simply by turning my head, allowing the katana to scrape uselessly across my temple.

Taken off guard (when you spend your entire lifetime honing your skill with the blade, you're inevitably thrown for a loop when it just bounces off your target) Colleen doesn't quite manage to turn her charge into a smooth roll as she had intended, and instead stumbles when her bare feet hit the floor.

I react even before she's made contact, and my arm comes around in a wide swing, catching her in the ribs and throwing her into the wall. I didn't put that much strength into it, but it's still enough to break her bones.

As she's lying there on the ground, gasping for air, I kneel down next to her. My eyes fall onto the katana she's still grasping in her hands, and slowly I reach out and grab it by the blade. I effortlessly start moving it from her grasp, even as her eyes widen in fear and she tries to hold onto it with all her strength.

She fails.

Casually, as if I don't feel any resistance at all, I move the blade from her hands and examine it as I hold it up to eye level.

"Here's something that I don't get about the katana: why do people like it so much? Iron melts at 2800 °C, yet the _tatara_ in which katana are forged can only reach 2600 °C, meaning that traditional blades are filled with slag inclusions, making them brittle. And then a blacksmith folds it over and over, and ends up beating all the carbon out of the steel. They only have one edge with which to cut with, and not really much of a spearing point, like longswords have. So why the fascination with them? I'll freely admit, I am guilty of it myself, I think they're cool as shit, but as far as blades go? The katana is pretty… _weak._ " I muse to myself (fully aware that what I'm saying is only half-correct, but I'm trying to rile the woman up), as I grip the tip and the base of the blade between my fingers, and slowly start to apply pressure.

As the blade visibly starts to bend, Colleen forces herself to sit up a bit straighter, her hand outstretched as she pleads with me.

"P-please… d-don't…" she gasps out, but I am unmoved as I easily keep bending the blade further and further, ignoring the dark red blotches that slowly start to stain her white shirt.

Am I an evil bastard for doing this?

Yeah, pretty much. After all, it wasn't Colleen who attacked me. But at this point, she's part of the organization who did, and my only link to Bakuto's hideout.

I am willing to do far, _far_ worse.

"Where is the hideout, Miss Wing. It won't take much more effort from me to shatter this heirloom, and then I'll be forced to focus on… breaking something else."

I bend the blade a bit further.

Colleen Wing was a proud, strong-willed woman who could handle herself in a fight, who was trained by some of the most evil bastards on Earth. _Everyone_ breaks under torture, eventually, but I wasn't sure where Colleen's threshold was, though undoubtedly it would be _very_ high.

It would most likely involve doing massive, permanent damage, and while I had no qualms with going that far (though my respect for her as a character meant that I'd rather not have to), it would both involve a lot of time and a lot of screaming, which would inevitably draw attention.

But going after her heirloom?

That might hurt her more than any damage I inflicted on her body.

"P-please…" she begs again, crying now.

"I understand, Miss Wing. You feel that you owe the man. It is to be expected. He gave you your skills, he gave you this dojo. But what is the price for that? The Hand _owns_ you, Miss Wing. They owned your soul the moment Bakuto decided to make you his, and he spent your entire life training your body into something that would be of use to him. You think you are unique? That he cares for you? He is _millennia_ old, Miss Wing. There are countries, _civilizations_ , that are younger than he is. Do you think that in all that time, there had never been another? That there had been _no one_ else, who he cherished, who he trained, who he gave what they craved the most? Do not be foolish, Miss Wing, we both know that you are not that naïve. But have you never wondered about the other ones? The ones that have come decades and _centuries_ before you? About what happened to them? Either they died young, on the blade of his enemies, or his own. Or they grew old, their souls still his, but with bodies that were useless to him. You know what kind of man he is, do you really think that he would keep around something _useless_? Those too fell on his blade. After millennia, only he remains. The man is incapable of love, Miss Wing. He is a _monster_." I tell her in a soft voice, going after every psychological weak point that I can think of.

I bend the blade a bit further. It's visibly straining now.

"P-p-please…" Colleen sobs, crying openly now.

"This can _all_ go away, Miss Wing. I will leave, and I'll take down the Hand. You have built a pretty good life for yourself. Help me in safeguarding that life. Help me make sure that you will never again have to lie awake at night, fearing a knock on your door, and hearing that the Hand wishes for their perfect little soldier back, fearing that you'll have to stain this sword with innocent blood. _Help me_. Where. Is. Bakuto?" I whisper, leaning in a bit further to the crying woman.

As she stares up at me with broken, helpless eyes, I know that I've won.

Victory tastes like ash in my mouth.

* * *

 **December 31st, 2011 12:23**

I was floating in the air just below the clouds, a tiny speck against an endless sky as I looked at the Compound below me. Several buildings, scattered around a few open fields, and surrounded by forests on all sides, with only one road leading to a tiny village a few miles back.

It had taken me an hour and a half, flying at my top speed (I felt that with just a bit more speed and training, I could break the sound barrier, but I wasn't quite there, _yet_ ) before I reached the Hand Compound, and from this far up, it just looked like a regular university campus.

Despite the snow covering everything, there were still a fair amount of people out and about, which made sense considering they were receiving training from hell in order to be moulded into the Hand's next generation of weapons.

Even from this far up, I can still see individual people, though it's impossible to make out any features. For now, I don't have to. I patiently wait until I see a large group go out into the snow covered field that lies in the centre of the compound, as they all go through what appear to be warm-up stretches.

They go through a couple of synchronised movements, before I spot movement coming from the far side of the field and I spot a single figure walking towards the front of the large group, pacing a bit back and forth as he observes the assassins in training.

Descending a couple of hundred feet, I confirm my suspicions: right there is Bakuto, one of the five Fingers of the immortal Hand.

I cut the power.

Plummeting down at breakneck speeds, I can't fully suppress my worry. I'm (fairly) sure that I'll survive this, but this is the highest I've ever fallen, and it's definitely going to hurt. I'll probably break a few bones, but my worry is more centred around _how many_ I'll end up breaking, and how long it'll take to fix them.

And then I can't worry any further because _HOLY FUCKING SHIT THAT MOTHERFUCKING HURTS WHY THE FUCKING FUCK DID I THINK THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA, FUUUUCK!_

The familiar heat of Extremis immediately kicks in, and the pain quickly fades to a background noise as my legs (and would you look at that, I only broke every single bone in both legs, yay me) start to knit themselves together.

Despite the horrific impact, there's of course not a single scratch on me.

As I fully straighten, I am reminded why I thought this was a good idea, as the dust cloud around me finally begins to settle.

I had aimed at roughly the middle of the large group of would-be ninja's, who were centred around the middle of the courtyard.

Except where they had stood, there was now a massive crater, bits of debris and… human falling down around me.

Quickly jumping out of the three feet deep massive hole, I land on the edge of the upturned earth, seeing whatever people that weren't reduced to bits by my meteor impact strewn around the courtyard, those closest to me either dead or unconscious, and those further away shakily working themselves back to their feet.

Amongst them is Bakuto.

Even as he painfully straightens, I dash forwards in a straight line, shouldering two of his students out of my way with enough force to send them flying. Bakuto has just enough time to widen his eyes, before my enormous hand closes around his skull.

I don't make any demands. I don't make any threats. In fact, I don't say anything at all.

I just start squeezing.

As I can see him screaming, I'm a bit confused at first, before I finally realize what's wrong.

He doesn't make a sound.

Thinking back on it, I haven't heard a thing ever since my impact. Guess I busted my eardrums or something. It doesn't really matter, they'll regenerate themselves any moment-

"-AARRRGGHHG!"

See?

Dropping the panting Finger to the ground, my boot descends on his left knee with a dry crack, and once more a scream comes from the immortal asshole. I repeat the process with his other knee, before I feel something pinging off the back of my helmet.

Even if the Hand knew that it was me, and for whatever reason decided to report this attack to the authorities, they couldn't _prove_ it if I kept my identity hidden, and didn't display any of my fire powers. After all, Michael McCole didn't wear advanced armour, and he certainly couldn't _fly_.

The only reason that I hadn't worn the armour when I went to visit Colleen was because it would've been too conspicuous, and it was difficult enough already to sneak around with my size (though I had made sure that nobody had seen me enter her dojo). Some very creative threats were hopefully sufficient in keeping her from stepping to the police, but she was something that I would need to find a way to deal with, preferably without killing her.

Turning around, I see three men running out of one of the buildings, firing automatic rifles at me as they fan out. Almost laughing out loud at the sheer uselessness of their attack (I shrugged off Wakandan weaponry bare-chested, the fuck did they think those peashooters were going to do to me?) I simply raise one of my arms, the massive gauntlet concealing a Hammer-tech machine gun.

A few quick bursts later, and my would-be attackers are dead.

Feeling something impact my shin through the thick cargo pants I'm wearing, I can see Bakuto's wide-eyed gaze as he looks from the small tanto he has stabbed me with, to my featureless helmet glaring down at him.

Bending down, I quickly snatch the hand with the knife in my own, before I crush it with about as much effort as it would've taken a human to snap a toothpick.

Ignoring his renewed cries, I look up as over a dozen new people run into the courtyard, some of them adults wielding machine guns, some of them youngsters wielding swords or just their bare fists.

While the people trained here were on the young side, I rationalized to myself that I still wasn't breaking my 'no killing kids' rule, given that most of the people here were either eighteen or over, and were all trained killers.

Still, other than the group I had just crushed with my impact, I wouldn't exactly go out of my way to start killing the brainwashed youngsters here.

But those security people, that were even now opening fire on me, their bullets flattening on my metal armour or indestructible leather duster?

Now _they_ were fair game.

It was a matter of moments for my on-board targeting system to high-light the adults wielding machine guns.

It took even shorter to lift my arms, and squeeze the triggers.

The sound of gunfire was deafening, but a few seconds later every single security guard was down on the ground, riddled with holes.

Try resurrecting from _that_ , bitches.

Leaning down again, I grip Bakuto by his shoulder (the one connected to his unbroken arm) and snap that too, making him scream again.

"Sensei!"

The voice is young, and as I look up, I can see a woman run towards me with tears running down her face, a katana held high above her head. In the moments it takes for her to cross the ruined courtyard at her deadsprint, I idly wonder how old she is.

Eighteen? Nineteen? Certainly no older than in her early twenties.

Only a few years younger than I was.

As she reaches me and swings down the sword in a powerful strike, I simply put my hand in the path of her blade. My greater strength combined with my durability means that the sword nearly goes flying when she strikes my unorthodox defence, and just for a few moments, I can see she's taken off guard, her stance unbalanced.

"Olivia, NO!" Bakuto roars out, his trained eye catching the same thing that I did, but he's powerless as my hand shoots out, slapping her hands to the side, wrenching the blade out of her grip.

Unarmed, she tries to back off, but she's too slow as my hand darts forwards and closes around her throat. Reeling her in, I raise her high above the ground, noticing that all the other students are frozen in position, even as more security forces are approaching.

Tilting my head downwards, until the faceplate is gazing at the writhing Bakuto, I speak my first words since my arrival, the modulator making my voice unrecognisable.

"Where is Alexandra Reid, Bakuto?"

"W-what…?"

"Wrong answer."

And with that, I break Olivia's neck.

"NO!" Bakuto screams out in real anguish, as he tries to reach out to her, but both his legs are broken, one hand is busted and the other arm is useless below the shattered shoulder.

Carelessly I toss the body to the side, before I lift my gauntleted arm at the crowd of ninja-in-training and the dozen new security guards. As I loosely aim in their direction, some of the students let out screams of fear, even as the older ones stand tall with the security forces, gripping their weapons a bit tighter.

"Tell me where Reid is, and I'll let your people live, Bakuto."

"D-don't…" he starts, murder in his eyes even as blood dribbles down his chin, but I just give a slow shake of my head as I ignore the bullets fruitlessly flattening themselves on my form.

"Wrong answer."

"NOOO!"

And I open fire, taking down the security guards and many of the students. Quite a lot of them take off running, but a surprising number stays behind, dashing towards the machine guns of the fallen guards.

Bakuto is screaming at me now, cursing my out in several dozen languages at once, but I ignore it, simply upping the pressure of my foot on his chest until I cut off his air supply. I keep it up until he goes blue in the face, before I lift my foot a bit, allowing Bakuto to take a couple of coughing gasps of precious air.

"You obviously care about these people. You care about this _place_. Do you care as much about Alexandra?"

With that, the backplate of my armour, which I wear over my duster, and which is connected to the breastplate of my armour by two thick metal clamps going over my shoulders, and two more going under my arms, shifts some panels, before a dozen red tips become visible.

"Where is Alexandra Reid?"

"I… I c-can… p-please, d-don't…" Bakuto tries to gasp out, but I just slowly shake my helmet in a ponderous gesture.

"Wrong answer."

And even as Bakuto's face shifts from a pained expression to a horrified one, the missiles in my backplate shoot upwards, thin trails of smoke behind them, before they angle downwards and slam into the largest building with enormous explosions, throwing people in the vicinity to the ground.

"NO!" Bakuto screams yet again, but this time it's different from the previous times.

This time it's more broken.

Lifting my boot off his chest, I kneel in the mud next to his head, leaning downwards a bit (ignoring as one very brave and stupid young man tries to perform a flying knee on me, shattering his leg in the process, while I barely even budge).

"Come on Bakuto. What do you owe Alexandra? What has she sacrificed for you, that would force you to sacrifice _everything_ here? And make no mistake Bakuto, I won't stop until I've destroyed _everything_ you even vaguely value. I'll rip apart every building here, I'll kill every student present. And if that's not enough pain you're willing to endure for some conceited woman who never even remotely cared about you, then I'll start tracking down everyone else. I'll kill everyone you have ever trained, and everyone that even shares a drop of blood with them. Every place you have ever enjoyed visiting, I'll reduce to dust and ash, and all the while Alexandra Reid sits on her throne, _laughing_ at your misguided loyalty, at your _useless_ sacrifices. Because in the end? I'll kill her too." I threaten, and the only thing I don't mean in that whole evil monologue is that I'll kill the bloodrelations of his former students, as they are innocent in all of this mess.

Still, it gets the job done, as his feverish eyes finally settle on my blank faceplate.

He's clearly struggling, his pride warring against his survival instincts, but eventually the screams of the dying around us tips him over the edge, this whole attack too sudden, too _powerful_ for him to formulate a direct response to.

"M-mansion… M-miami… K-K-Killian…" he manages to wheeze out, and the blood in my veins feels as if it's turned to ice.

"Wrong answer." I bit out harshly, before I straighten, aiming both arms at the people running around the burning main building.

"NO! No, I s-swear!" Bakuto coughs, and it's only the desperation in his voice that makes me hesitate.

"You're lying. He's _dead_." I hiss at him, picking him up from the ground by a fistful of his hair, prompting another pained cry from the broken immortal.

"Yes… b-but A.I.M…. the… the projects… M-mandarin… works for… us.." Bakuto haltingly says in between rattling breaths of air.

"No, _Hydra_ backs A.I.M." I say with a growl, but doubt starts to settle in the back of my mind.

I killed Killian, yes, but Killian gone didn't mean that the think tank just… _stopped_ working or something. I just hadn't paid them any thought, because Sterns' genius managed to use Killians stable body to already give me Extremis, meaning that A.I.M. was pretty much useless to me.

"Yes… Hydra b-backs A.I.M…. b-but… but Mandarin… works… for _us_ …" Bakuto manages to gasp out with a grin on his bloodied face.

"I _told_ you, the Mandarin is dead! I should know, _I_ killed him!" I snarl as I bring Bakuto closer to me, but all he does is weakly chuckle at my visible anger.

"You… Y-you know… n-nothing…"

At his mocking tone, I see _RED_ , and with a roar I draw back my hand holding onto his head, and throw him as hard as I can at the nearest building, sending him _through_ the solid brickwork. I'm flying right on his heels, smashing through the outerwall with ease, as I look down on Bakuto's broken body.

Broken… but still alive.

Floating over towards him, easily crossing the debris, I point one of my gauntlets right as his head, and as I see his eyes twitch in my direction I give out a low growl.

"This is the end for you Bakuto. You, and everything you have worked so hard to build. And there _won't_ be any coming back from the dead this time, asshole. I'll make _sure_ of it."

And with those words I open fire for a full fifteen seconds, until all that remains of Bakuto's head is a smear on the ground. I hear a roar of anger coming from outside the building, and looking over my shoulder, I see an adult rip the pin out of a grenade, before throwing the thing at me (I suddenly realize that the reason they stuck to those machine guns instead of bringing out something with more power, was because they didn't want to get Bakuto caught in their attack, something that now of course isn't an issue anymore).

Shooting forwards, snatching the grenade out of the air as I go, I come to a stop in front of the man just as he straightens form his throw. I can see his eyes open wide in shock at my sudden closeness, before that is replaced with fear as my free hand grabs the back of his head.

I ram the grenade in his mouth, knocking out a few teeth as I do, and keep both my hands in place, easily ignoring his frantic struggles.

A few seconds and a gory explosion later, and his struggles have ceased altogether.

I shoot upwards into the sky again, before I hover a couple of hundred feet above the compound. Once again, the panels on the backplate of my armour shift, revealing two dozen missiles this time.

The remainder of my entire payload.

Targeting every single building below, I unleash hell from above, ignoring the screams coming from the mortals as they die in droves.

As Bakuto's life's work goes up in flames and comes crumbling apart under an onslaught of explosions, I angle myself towards New York, and blast off with enough speed to push back the low hanging cloud cover.

* * *

 **December 31st, 2011 14:30**

Sitting in my hotel room (after profusely apologizing to the owner of the hotel for the damages I did to both the wall and the toilet) I wait until Jeri texts me the end results of her meeting with Harold Meachum.

Ward had given up his father pretty easily, especially when Hogarth subtly hinted that it was unlikely that Harold would live through the night. At first she had been unsure about telling the man that his father would die, but the hopeful look in Ward's eyes told her that I had been right in advising that action all along.

As I knocked back a bottle of complementary vodka (not that it would really have any effect on me, but I hardly cared at the moment), I sat on the couch, staring at the laptop in front of me, Bakuto's words haunting me.

The screen showed a satellite image of Killian's mansion.

"He's lying. I killed the Mandarin when I killed Killian." I muse out loud, though only in a barely audible whisper, because I don't trust S.H.I.E.L.D. (or anyone else, for that matter) to not have bugged my room.

Was my meta-knowledge wrong somehow? When I saw Banner a year ago, I saw Mark Ruffalo, instead of Edward Norton, and had concluded that reality retroactively edited itself. Was this something similar? Had a new movie come out in my home universe that changed the rules of the game somehow? If so, why didn't know about the change, like I did with changes like Rhodey's or Banner's appearance?

Had I been here too long?

It was an endless loop of questions, with no end in sight, until I was thankfully snapped from my musings by my telephone giving out an alert. Looking over, I saw it was a text from Hogarth.

- _F. is in._ _His place, 57_ _th_ _Street 19:00. Be there. JH._ -

I don't know what Harold plans to do in order to piss off Gao to such a point that she's willing to come to his place to smack him down personally, and frankly, I don't quite care.

At this point, while a total bastard, Harold is still pretty stable (for as much as you can call a guy who murdered his best friend stable, that is) so I trust him enough to find something that'll work, like undermining Gao's infrastructure for her heroin trade within Rand.

Every option Gao takes at this point will end badly for her. Either she does nothing, and Harold gets away with his subordination, quite probably damaging her drug smuggling operation.

Or she sends her goons, in which cases I'll just get her location out of them.

Or she comes in person, in which case I'll get confirmation on whether what Bakuto told me was a lie or not, and Alexandra's location either way.

The moment I think that, my phone goes off, and taking the call, I can hear Sterns on the other end.

"Hello, Michael, this is Sterns. How's things going over there? Burstein told me the procedure was a success, but that you and Hogarth have begun your counterattack against the Hand?" the scientist asks, completely unbothered about discussing such things over the phone.

Then again, this is Sterns, I wouldn't be surprised if he somehow managed to triple encrypt our line, or something similar.

If he thinks we're secure, then I trust that we're secure.

"Hi Sam. Yeah, the procedure is a full success. Once we got a new base, we can run tests on my body and use the data to give Jessica more powers, if she wants them. How's Radcliffe coming along?"

I can tell that my friend picked up on the fact that I omitted anything about the Hand counterattack, but after a soft sigh he lets it go.

"Yeah, Radcliffe is extremely excited to come work for us. You should've seen his face when I told him about the Brain Booster… the man is brilliant Michael, I can only image what he'll be capable of once he's working for us."

"That's good. That's very good. You find anything on Reid?"

"Uhh, yeah, her name popped up a couple of times during my searches. Mainly in relation to philanthropy, or awards or big events, stuff like that. Nothing private, and I do mean _nothing._ No home address, no nothing. But I did find one thing."

"Yeah? What?"

"Well, she was _supposed_ to go to this fancy New Year's Eve party? And by fancy I mean, Tony Stark levels of fancy. But here's the thing, she called it off just an hour ago, and she hasn't been seen since. Weird huh?"

"Yeah. Weird." I reply absently, my eyes fixed on the Miami mansion on my laptop.

"And Murakami?"

"The same deal, except his name pops up even _less._ There are people and corporations that are tied to him, but the man himself is a ghost. I got a bit more luck with tracking down his second in command, that Nobu guy? Yeah, from what I can tell, he's just a regular business man, nothing about him or his accounts really screams 'ninja' if you know what I mean. But he _did_ get checked into a private hospital yesterday. I managed to hack their files, but his charts only state severe trauma."

"Right. Murakami is out of our reach then, for now. I've got an idea where Reid is, I'll have confirmation tonight. As for Nobu, I guess this confirms that Jeri fought him off. We'll see how he can be dealt with discreetly, but for now he's not going anywhere, so he's not a priority. When can you get back to New York?" I ask, my mind on the meeting tonight.

"Tomorrow morning, at the earliest. We might make it there _very_ late tonight. It's only about a five hour drive, since Harper wants us to stick to the inroads as much as possible, but Radcliffe does have business he needs to take care of first, before we can leave. So we all just kind of settled on sticking it out here for New Year's and then make it back tomorrow." Sterns explained.

"That's fine, Sterns. Don't worry about it, take your time, and stay safe. I got things covered over on my end."

"Do you. Michael, do you _really_?" I hear my friend ask earnestly, and had it been anybody else, I would've turned off the phone right there and then.

But this was Sterns.

The first real friend I made in this universe.

The guy I dragged to another continent with me, who has kept me alive to this point, who made me what I am.

"I'm being honest, Sam. I know what I'm doing. I don't _like_ it. I don't like any of what I've done, or what I'm still going to do. But I _am_ doing it Sam. The Hand won't live to see 2012." I say with utter conviction, getting another sigh from my friend.

"Alright. Alright fine. Just… just don't forget who you are, alright Michael? You aren't exactly a saint, but you're not a monster. Don't let those ninja-maniacs turn you into one, you got it?" Sterns asks seriously, prompting a small smile from me.

"Yeah. Yeah I got it Sam. Thanks."

"Don't mention it. We'll see you… _next year_." Sterns says with a laugh, and I can't help but join in at the bad pun.

"That's the lamest joke in history, and you know it." I reprimand him, and I can just imagine his shrug, even over the telephone.

"Eh, it made you laugh so I'll take it. Take care Michael."

"Yeah, you too."

And with that I hang up, gazing out the windows at the skyline of New York. Glancing at the time, I notice that I've still got a couple of hours until the meeting with Gao, and since I don't want to be stuck with any more mental dilemmas, I set an alarm for 18:30 and go to bed.

Sleep does not come to me.

* * *

 **December 31st, 2011 19:06**

Gao is late.

Of course she is, it's the oldest powerplay in the book, but I still can't stop the irritation rising within me.

Glancing to my side, I can tell that Hogarth is feeling the same thing, her new youth combined with her shades (she learned her lesson about eyes being a weak spot after the botched assassination) making me feel as if I'm standing next to Trinity.

Looking to my other side, I can see Harold Meachum _almost_ successfully hiding his nerves as he stares at the door at the other end of the hall, a big revolver in one hand, the other rubbing his chin.

Looking back ahead again, I can't quite contain a slight sense of amusement from coming over me.

' _Here I am, standing in a penthouse, waiting for an ancient ninja, with Trinity on one side, and Faramir on the other. My life is so,_ _ **so**_ _weird.'_

As I finish that strange thought, there's a ding coming from the hallway, before the door is slowly pushed open, both my companions tensing besides me.

Briefly I wonder whether I should've brought in any more of my people, but I quickly decide that leaving them to guard the salvage from HQ and a recovering Susan was the better option, considering that I alone should be enough to face anything the Hand could throw at me.

And then there's no time for any further thinking, since the door has opened fully and inside strides the hunched over from of Madame Gao.

I'm surprised that she's showed up in person, and I'm immediately on my guard.

If she's confident enough in her safety to come here herself, then she's got some kind of ace up her sleeve, especially if what I did to Bakuto made its way back to her somehow.

My wariness increases when she doesn't seem surprised to see me and Jeri standing next to Harold, merely giving out a condescending smile and a shake of her head.

"Come now. Surely you couldn't believe that I wouldn't see this trap for what it is? Young Harold, threatening me as he did? He does not have the _spine_ for it." Gao says slowly, smirking at the man beside me.

I see his jaw clench and his fingers tighten on the gun in his hand, but he doesn't raise it in her direction, though he doesn't avert his eyes either.

"You seem rather unbothered by our trap, Gao." I rumble, bringing Gao's rheumy stare back my way.

"It is because I did not see merely a trap. I saw, and _opportunity_. When you become as old as I am, you learn how to turn situations, into an advantage. All you need for that, is some _friends_."

And with that, ninja burst through the door behind her, around thirty or something judging from a quick glance. It's not the ninja that bother me though.

It's not even the six people that burst in after the ninja, wielding Wakandan weaponry and wearing the Amber Armor that I sold to the police, only painted a uniform black.

No, it's the three people slowly walking in behind them, clad in civilian clothing and appearing unarmed.

Their eyes are glowing.

Looking from the three Extremis enhanced to Gao again, I scowl in anger at her smirking expression.

"So Bakuto was telling the truth. You _do_ have an in with A.I.M. somehow."

Gao gave a small, unconcerned laugh as she takes in my words, the ninja fanning out further in Harold's penthouse, the Extremis guards walking up towards her, while the paramilitary looking guys take up position by the door.

"Of course we do. We have an in, _everywhere_. That foolish young Mandarin. He has wanted to be a part of the five Fingers for so long now, ever since he was a little boy. He's one of Alexandra's little pet projects, I believe. It's even in the name of his organization: Ten Rings, a gift, to the Five Fingers. Such a sweet, naive little boy."

"So the Mandarin _is_ real." I growl out, the realization that my meta-knowledge was wrong a punch to the gut, not helped at all when Gao starts laughing again.

"How little you truly know of the world, young McCole! Yes, I know who you are, no helmet can hide the _rage_ in your heart, the _fury_ in your eyes. It doesn't matter. After tonight, your interference in the business of the Hand shall be put to a stop." The old lady says with an air of certainty, though she's taken off guard when it's my turn to laugh.

"Yes. Yes it is. But not because of the reason you're thinking of. No, after tonight, my business with the Hand shall be at an end… because after tonight, there will _be_ no more Hand."

And without warning, I raise my arms, and start gunning down the ninja closest to me, while Jeri immediately starts shooting her pistols as well. Harold is visibly startled by the sudden violence, and it takes him a few moments to gather his wits, but the he too starts firing.

The counteraction of the ninja is immediate, as they start swarming us, but that is where they run into a glaring problem.

Bringing a knife to a gun fight is just a plain bad idea.

My fully automatic fire cuts them down in droves, and while they do manage to close the distance to Jeri due to her slower firing rate, it does exactly shit for them, considering they can't even cut her.

The moment her clips are empty, she snatches one of her attackers' swords straight out of his hands by the blade, and starts butchering those that get too close to her.

Harold, meanwhile, is nearly dying of fright.

Apart from a rather nice headshot on a ninja that was about to run at him, splattering the assassin's brain all over the wall and floor, he has made only two more kills, and the ninja are almost upon him.

I can feel his hand tugging on my trenchcoat, and as I look over my shoulder at him (getting a brace of shuriken against my breastplate as I take my attention of the ninja in front of me) I can see the desperation in the man's eyes.

"You have to protect me! That was the deal!" he almost screams as he frantically looks between the approaching ninja and me.

With a growl, I stop firing with my right arm, instead grabbing him by his head.

"This one is for Wendell and Heather." I growl out, making Harold's eyes widen in fear, before I hurl him down at the ninja with enough speed, I manage to crush the body of at least six of them.

All of this took place in the span of only a couple of seconds, and we've only taken out about half of Gao's ninja forces. The more dangerous threat are the Extremis people surrounding her and judging by her scowl, she knows it too.

"Well?! What are you waiting for?! Kill him!"

All three of them give out arrogant grins at that, cracking their necks, and one of them even punches his open palm.

What a douche.

As I prepare myself for an entirely different kind of fight, I finally notice something.

The paramilitary types haven't fired a single shot yet.

Gao realizes it as well the same moment that I do, as she turns around with a shout already forming on her face, but it's too late.

As one, the six paramilitary guys step forwards, each aiming at the back of the three Extremis people in pairs, and open fire.

The one on the left is dead instantly, as his head simply… disappears.

The other two survive a bit longer, though one is missing a fairly large part of his skull. The one in the middle is still fairly intact, having turned at the last moment, meaning he only misses part of his face and throat (which while extremely painful, weren't _lethal_ to an Extremis user).

However, the pair that killed their target on the first go add their fire to the pair that's still shooting at the Extremis user that they force to the ground, reducing the upper part of the man's torso into one giant gaping hole, even as the last pair keeps on shooting at their own target, forcing him back with each shot.

As all six people focus their fire on a single target, he too dies, his head and torso simply gone.

The ninja react immediately, however, and half of their remaining forces break off from me and Jeri in order to attack the betrayers. Again the slaughter began as the ninja fell before my machineguns, though Jeri was having difficulty killing her own attackers.

They couldn't hurt her, but neither could she hit them.

Giving a wide swing with her stolen swords, she forced one of the ninja to back away a bit too closely to me, and before he can dodge, I've grabbed him by the back of his loose shirt, lifted him over my head, and thrown him into a ninja that was about to behead one of the attackers, making the two slam into each other with a series of wet snaps.

The paramilitary guy gives me quick nod before moving back into formation with his team, their superior weapons and indestructible armour making sure that they're dealing quickly with their own share of ninja.

Quickly looking over at Jeri's side, I simply aim my machine gun in her direction and open fire, killing her attackers in a spray of bullets, though Jeri gives me an annoyed glare when one impacts her in the side of the head, knocking her glasses of.

Because there's no such thing as friendly fire when you're immune to bullets.

Gao quickly realizes that with her heavy hitters taken out by her _other_ heavy hitters, she doesn't stand a chance against me, and turns around to quickly make her way out, though the paramilitary guys bar the way.

I'm about to intervene, before I can sense that she's doing… _something_.

Then without warning, her hand shoots out, and all six grown men are thrown clear off their feet, some of them impacting harshly against the wall behind them. It's clear that the chi attack took a lot out of her, but Gao still tries to run towards the exit.

' _Oh no you don't.'_

And with that, I fly forwards, catching Gao by the back of her head. Not stopping, I angle downwards, and before the old lady can even shout in alarm, I've ploughed her head into the floor.

Lifting her in the air by her head, I turn her towards my, before I can feel that weird thing she did just before-

 _WHAM!_

-yep, there it is, that weird shoving motion again, though this time she does it against my chin, probably in an attempt to snap my neck or something. While she does manage to move my head a bit to the side, the chi blow doesn't really affect me any worse, though my HUD is shot to shit.

Removing the helmet (she knows my identity anyways) I fix Gao with a burning glare, though the old lady stares defiantly back at me, even as blood flows freely down her face.

"I will tell you _nothing_. You think you have won? That with just me and Bokuto, the Hand will fall? We have existed for _centuries_ , we have people in every position in _every_ society you ignorant child! The Hand will rebuild, and everything you own, and everything that you _are_ will be reduced to ash! You will _never_ win!" she hisses at me, though her speech is slurred and barely understandable.

A closer look tells me I've broken her jaw in multiple places and she's lost quite a few teeth.

"For someone who will tell me nothing, you sure talk a lot." I growl back at her, making her shut up, though she glares at me with murder in her eyes.

"I know that Reid is in the A.I.M. mansion in Miami right now. And as you've just told me, while A.I.M.'s research is funded by Hydra, the front that they intend to use, the Mandarin, is actually loyal to you. How close to the mark am I, Gao?" I rumble, and while the aged leader remains silent, the hatred in her eyes just increases.

"Given that you're not laughing and calling me ignorant, I'll just assume that I'm right on the money here, shall I?"

I can tell that the evil old bat wants to spit in my face, but with her broken jaw it's impossible.

"In that case, you are of no more use to me. Goodbye Gao. For good this time."

Amazingly, the immortal manages to lift her chin in defiance at me, her eyes sparking with determination.

"Do your worst, _demon_. Death has no hold on me: I _will_ return." She spits, blood flowing from her lips.

Placing both of my hands on either side of her face, I bring her in a bit closer, until I'm looming over her, her body fixed in place as I gaze down at her.

"Not from this you won't."

And with that, I open my mouth wide, and unleash a tidal wave of fire on the old woman. Her shrieks persist only for a couple of moments, before they slowly start to die down, though her body keeps twitching.

I keep this up for a full three minutes (absentmindedly noting that I'm not even slightly out of breath) and as I stop and the glare slowly fades away, I see that all I'm holding is a charred skeleton.

With a disdainful sneer, I throw it to the ground, making it fall apart into ash.

A retching sound brings me back to reality, and I turn around to see Jeri throwing up in a potted plant. A shuffling from behind me brings my attention back towards the six people that betrayed Gao.

Their clearly nervous as I look at them, and at least two seem to be torn in between opening fire on me, or running away. After a few silent moments, in which I simply look at them and they nervously shuffle around, one of them (the leader, presumably) steps forwards, removing his helmet.

He's a harsh faced man, clearly a veteran of some sort, and when he looks at me, his expression is a mix of fear and respect.

"What the hell was your part in all this?" I ask tiredly, making the man swallow uncomfortably, before he straightens somewhat, and gives me a professional nod.

"Mr. Fisk sends his regards."

* * *

 **December 31st, 2011 23:13**

Once again I'm hovering high up in the air, though this time I'm concealed by the cover of dark clouds. Below me is the mansion of the late Aldrich Killian in beautiful Miami.

And the front lawn is littered with bodies.

I can make out people in both tactical gear and in ninja garb.

Seems like Hydra didn't appreciate that a rival organization had gotten their claws into their private project.

Slowly floating downwards until I'm flying over the house itself, I can hear the sound of battle going on inside, and I spot yet more bodies, illuminated by the fire that's spread all over the mansion itself and the grounds around it.

Judging by several scorched parts where I can make out the shadows of skeletons, it seems that more than a few Extremis subjects went critical here.

Whose side they were fighting on is anyone's guess by now.

A roar and a high-pitched scream tear me from my examination of the ground, and quickly flying over to the other side of the mansion, I'm treated to a _very_ unusual sight.

And considering the way my life's turned out, that's saying something.

Because running out of the mansion, bare feet slapping against stone, is a terrified woman I immediately recognize as Dr. Hansen. And running behind her, having just crashed through the front wall, is Alexandra Reid.

Or what's left of her, at least.

Clearly, _something_ is wrong with the woman, considering she looks more like a…. like a…. honestly, she looks like someone took the corpse of a woman and a dragon, and then crudely stapled the two together, and _then_ set the whole thing on fire.

Wreathed in flame, Alexandra was easily twelve feet tall, het arms were taloned, her legs digitigrade and she had an honest to God tail that was about as long as she was. Her human flesh was cracked in places along her body, with black, burning scales visibly _pushing_ their way outwards, as if something deep inside the woman was clawing its way out, which was especially pronounced across her back (oh, god I can see her _spine_!) and her hands and feet.

As for her face…

It's only my long familiarity with Sigourney Weaver's face that allows me to recognize her, but _fuck_ has she become ugly. Her nose is burned away completely, much like on a skull, her teeth are long and needle like, and her eyes…

Well, sometimes I describe my eyes as 'burning' as an analogy, meaning that they're just glowing very brightly with a reddish glow.

Her eyes are… _actually_ burning.

I have a few theories as to what the fuck actually happened to the leader of the Hand, but the answer to all my questions is currently terrified out of her mind and running for her life, so I do the only logical thing in this weird scenario.

I rocket towards the dragon-Alexandra hybrid shoulder-first, slamming into her with a crash that produces a shockwave that cracks the tiles underneath us and throws Dr. Hansen clear off her feet.

As Alexandra is launched back into the mansion (taking out even more of the wall) I turn around and float over towards where Hansen is working herself to her bleeding knees.

As she gazes up in wonder at me, I extend one of my enormous hands, a reassuring smile on my face.

"Come with me if you want to live."

' _God I've_ _ **always**_ _wanted to say that line!'_

For a few moments, Hansen just stares at me completely gobsmacked, but a roar from inside the now thoroughly ruined mansion snaps us out of our respective reveries.

" _Now_ , please!"

Giving a quick nod at my shout, Hansen claps my hand, and I immediately lift off high into the sky, ignoring Hansen's startled shriek. And not a moment too soon, since a black-scaled, clawed hand punched through the roof of the mansion, and Alexandra makes her way outside, a man in ninja gear hanging in her malformed maw.

His agonized screams are cut off with a nauseating crunch, before Alexandra drops her former subordinate as her flaming eyes track my flying form. The roar she lets out is a weird mix between the sounds Susan makes, only deeper, and a woman's shriek.

Then she opens that teeth-filled maw of her, and I can feel that same twisting of _power_ that I sensed coming from Gao when she used her chi attack, as a gout of flame easily twenty feet long comes leaping from her throat, the edges tinted in colours that I didn't even know existed and can't quite remember afterwards.

I'm starkly reminded of the breath attacks of the Abilisk the Guardians fought in GotG Vol. 2 and I give out an annoyed growl as realization sets in.

"What?! What is it! What the fuck was that?!"

"She can channel chi."

"I don't know what that means!"

Swinging her upwards, I shift my grip so I'm holding her in the classic bride position as we both look down as Alexandra makes her way back into the burning mansion, gunfire and screams increasing in intensity as she does.

Something tells me that the Hand and Hydra aren't exactly bothering with fighting each other anymore.

"Chi. The energy force of life. A form of magic, though using an internal power, instead of channelling universal or interdimensional energy." I explain absentmindedly as I try to track the slaughter going on inside the ruin.

"What! That's… that's…"

"Nonsense? Look lady, I'm a flying dude with superstrength who _literally_ just flew in to save your from a human-dragon abomination _thing_. Are you _really_ going to argue with me about whether magic is real or not? _Now_?"

Conceding to my irrefutable logic, Hansen falls silent, before I give her a nudge.

"What the fuck happened?"

"Well, first A.I.M. was backed by the government, right? I didn't care at first, Killian always took care of that side, but after he died, people started contacting _me_. Demanding things I couldn't possibly deliver. Extremis was still unstable, but the people on the other end of the line, who actually controlled A.I.M., they didn't care. They wanted to use the faulty subjects as suicide bombers, or some sick shit like that, and they brought in this guy, this _freak_. Calls himself the Mandarin, he's a terrorist or something, but he also told me to call him Trevor, he plays up this whole terrorist act, and I had to just make _more_. And then today, this woman rings the doorbell out of nowhere, and when the Mandarin sees her, he gives this order in some strange language, and the people _he_ brought in start shooting at the people the backers had brought in and people were dying, and then this lady had her _ninja_ enter the building! She ordered me to enhance her with Extremis, but I told her that it would probably kill me, and she just hit me and started yelling about having freed herself of death or some shit like that, and then there was gunfire _again_ , and she ordered the Mandarin, or Trevor, or _whatever_ the fuck his name is to buy her enough time for her ascension, and that if he did he'd rise with her or some shit like that and he just bowed and went 'yes, mistress' and went off and started fighting whoever the fuck attacked us _now_ and then the bitch started hitting me again, telling me she was running out of time so I injected her but _something_ went wrong-"

" _Dr. Hansen_!"

My shout snaps her from her shocked babbling, and her wide eyes settle on mine as her breathing slowly starts to even out a bit.

"When you injected Alexandra, the woman, what happened? What turned her into… _that_?" I ask, my question punctuated by another roar/shriek coming from within the mansion.

At my question, Hansen's eyes widen even further, and she clings so desperately to me I can actually feel the pressure.

"There's… _something_ … inside her already… and _it wants out_ …" Hansen whispers in such a horrified voice I can't quite keep a shiver from travelling up my spine.

' _So I was right. The Extremis had some sort of reaction with the Dragon substance already in her body. After centuries or even millennia, I imagine her body is completely infused with it… and considering Extremis', well,_ _ **extreme**_ _regenerative abilities…'_

"What are you going to do?" Hansen asks me in a worried tone, her eyes still filled with terror, while her hands are fisted into my duster in a deathgrip.

"I'm going to kill her."

As I say it, there's a terrified scream below, and we can clearly see a man thrown clear through the wall of the mansion. It's impossible to tell whether he was with the Hand or with Hydra, due to the fact that he was on fire.

And missing the upper part of his torso.

"Can you?" Hansen asks me in a soft whisper, and I briefly wondered the same thing, before I steeled myself.

I faced the Panther Goddess Bast. No mortal had managed to ever halt me in my tracks, not even when armed with futuristic technology and with the element of surprise. In one day I had done more damage to the Hand than they had experienced in _centuries_ , and even now my allies were moving against Hydra. I had a fucking _dinosaur_ as a pet and the man who made the Abomination as my best friend.

I could take a mutant dragon abomination any day of the week.

"Sure." I reply, before slowly descending down to Killian's private beach, which is thankfully only littered with a few bodies, in contrast to the slaughterhouse that the mansion itself is and the grounds surrounding it.

Setting her on her feet, I prepare to fly off again, but Hansen's hands on my arm keep me in place. Turning towards the scientist with a questioning look, Hansen holds onto me with a panicked expression.

"Don't just _leave_ me here!"

For a moment, I debate what I should do with her. I already have Extremis, so I don't really need her. On the other hand, this woman laid the groundwork for one of the most powerful enhancements in the MCU setting, as a baseline human. If I had her working for me on the Brain Booster…

However, the thing that eventually made my decision for me where Sterns' words to me on the phone. While I didn't feel guilty about my actions today, I did feel like shit about them, mostly about what I did to Colleen, but the sound as I snapped Olivia's neck came to mind as well.

It would be nice to just do a good thing today.

"Don't worry, alright? Stay here, you'll be safe. I'm gonna kill the dragon, then come back and take you with me, alright? You know who I am right?"

"Y-yeah. Uh, yeah, you're McCole. You run Titan Solutions. Or, I mean, you used to, ehm-"

"Yeah, whatever, listen, after I kill the dragon, you'll come work for me, alright? No more shady backers, or terrorists, or ninja turning into dragons anymore, ok? If you want I can even keep you a secret, and tell the world that you died here, so those assholes that tried to control you won't go looking for you, alright?" I press her, getting a hesitant nod from the scientist.

"Fine. Yeah, fine. Just don't leave me here."

"I won't. Promise."

And with that, I bend at the knees, before I blast off into the night sky, blasting sand away in my take-off. I rise out high above the mansion, before I angle myself forwards, and rocket towards the burning building.

I crash through the roof, two floors and three walls before I find myself in the burning remains of what once was the main room of the mansion. Everywhere were I look I see bodies, bullet holes and even the occasional claw mark.

A burst of gunfire and an ear-splitting roar coming from the floor above me and to the my right clues me in on the location of my target, and I'm off like a rocket, smashing through the ceiling, coming up right underneath Alexandra. Wrapping my arms around her ripped-apart body I don't stop, carrying her through another two floors, before she manages to kick me in the stomach, sending me through a wall.

As I straighten from the mangled remains of the table I had crashed into, I can see Alexandra's misshapen face glare at me through the hole, and once again I sense her gathering _something_ , before she unleashes yet another burst of chi-powered fire.

It's the first time since I've enhanced myself with Extremis that I feel heat crashing into me. As I open my eyes, I stare at my hands, which I had instinctively thrown up in front of my face.

They're burned.

Only slightly, like when you're accidentally brush against a hot frying pan or something, but still.

I'm supposed to be fireproof.

"So this is the power of chi, huh?" I muse to myself, and then I can't muse anymore, because Alexandra crashed into the room, making long swipes with her arm.

I dodge the first two, but as she comes with a swipe to my left side, I turn into her strike, balling my fist (already healed of course) as I tried to mimic what I felt Gao and Alexandra do, funnelling the power that I've felt since this morning into my attack.

Before her clawed hand can reach me, I punch outwards, hitting her in the crook of her elbow.

The blow is accompanied by a rush of wind, and it harshly twists Alexandra to the side as it nearly tears her arm off completely. Not wasting any time, I shoot forwards, punching her in the chest as hard as I can, sending her crashing through two walls and straight out of the mansion.

I briefly look at my fist, as I can tell that that one wasn't fuelled with power as the other one had been, this one using just using my raw strength. I didn't even know if the other punch had been fuelled by proper chi, or by the same energy field that gave Jessica her powers.

Or maybe the changes in her DNA allowed Jessica to naturally draw on her chi? But then where does the flight come from-

Once again I'm taken off guard because of all of these new questions when Alexandra bursts into the house again, this time managing to catch me in a bearhug as she sends us crashing to the floor below us.

Her head (a disgusting thing, it looks like someone cut off Sigourney Weaver's face, and tried to stretch it over a skull that was decidedly _non_ -human) darts forwards on a neck that's far too long, and her jaws close around my shoulder.

She draws back almost immediately though, a mix of a rail and a roar tearing from her throat as she broke her teeth on my indestructible coat. As close as we are now, I can definitely see what Hansen meant: underneath what remains of her skin, _something_ is clearly shifting and growing, and in some places, it rips apart the skin, showing lava-like blood and flesh that resembles fiery embers, though they have a yellowish glow.

I'm torn from my morbid stare as Alexandra's arm (completely healed, I notice) descends towards my head, impacting with an almighty shockwave and a sound like a thunderclap, snapping my head to the left.

Feeling a wetness inside my mind, I realize that the bitch made me bite my own tongue!

As she rears back for another strike (probably chi-fuelled like her fire is, considering the strength behind that last punch) I knee her in the side with enough force to throw her clear from me, something giving way with a wet snapping sound.

Quickly righting myself, I dash towards the abomination before it has a chance to recollect itself (which probably won't take long, since apparently it has a pretty decent healing factor, though thankfully nothing on my level) and I unleash a flurry of punches, each one hammering her deeper into the floor, and each one snapping something underneath her skin.

After a few moments of this, there's an enormous groan going through the entire house, before the floor gives way underneath us. I'm fine, as I just hover in place, but Alexandra starts falling with the rest of the debris, covered in glowing blood.

I almost chase after her, before her tail passes me, and acting on instinct, my hands lash out, grabbing the appendage hard enough that I'm tearing loose some scales, showing more of that burning flesh underneath.

With Alexandra shrieking below me, I rocket upwards, the floors of the mansion easily breaking on my body as I fly upwards in a straight line, before I finally smash through the roof, both me and Alexandra completely covered in flame.

As I keep climbing, a trail of fire following us in our wake, I can spot fireworks erratically dot the sky around us. Putting it out of my mind, I give an enormous heave, and throw Alexandra even further upwards.

As the flaming abomination hangs in the air, I rocket up past her, before I come to a halt myself. Quickly turning around, I start flying down to the falling Alexandra. Her flaming eyes settle on me, and she lets out an enormous wall of fire at me, but I just grit my teeth and come out the other side, slightly singed, but _very_ pissed off.

And then I crash into her once again, slamming both my arms around her twisting form, and I pour on even more speed, the mansion below us rapidly growing in my view.

And then we're crashing through the roof again, though I just keep powering onwards. We slam through every floor as if it isn't even there, before we finally hit the ground floor, crashing hard enough that everything in the room is slammed into the walls (bodies, furniture, survivors), the fire is snuffed out, and the entire mansion is shaking on its foundations.

In the middle of the room, at the epicentre of our crash, lies the broken form of Alexandra Reid, but judging by the slight twitches her head is making and the hellish glow that's only growing stronger underneath her skin, along with that disgusting _shifting_ , she's not dead yet.

I intend to rectify that.

Straightening the fingers on my right hand, I heat it up as hot as it can go, until it's emitting a glaring white glow, air shimmering around me. I then plunge my hand into the centre of Alexandra's chest, drawing an agonized shriek from her as I easily cut through her breastbone.

As she struggles to counterattack (and those twitches are definitely getting more pronounced, meaning that's she's rapidly healing) I repeat the process on my left hand, before I stab it down as well, right into the gaping wound my right hand is making.

Again she shrieks, and I'm fairly certain that she's busted both my eardrums, considering everything sounds muffled, dominated by an annoyingly high pitch, while I can feel something wet drip from my ears.

Still, I power through it, and with a roar that's even louder than hers, I rip my arms to the side with all of my strength, ripping apart Alexandra's chest, causing her to trash around in agony. The inside of her… it looks nothing like the insides of a human. Not even an Extremis-human. There's glowing cancerous looking growths everywhere, and everything burns with that yellowish glow, or is in fact, _literally_ burning.

But there's _one_ thing that's familiar.

Sitting a bit to the left of the hollow inside her chest I can spot her heart beating. It doesn't look human (for one it's glowing so brightly I have some difficulty looking at it) but it's definitely her heart.

Ignoring the trashing of the abomination beneath me, I pull back my right fist, once more heating it up as far as it can go, but now also fuelling all of the power inside of me into it, just like I felt Gao and Alexandra do. Everything I have inside of me, I push towards my fist, and I can tell it's working when it's suddenly covered in a flaming aura.

By now, Alexandra's spine has healed enough that she can lift her head and her right hand, and as she moves her head towards me in a flash, teeth filled maw opened wide, I roar again, punching down with all of my strength.

"THIS IS FOR PHINEAS, YOU _BITCH!"_

Once again, the mansion shakes down to its very foundations, while the room is filled by a flash of heat and blinding light.

As the light fades, I look down at what used to be Alexandra.

There's nothing but some charred ribs where her torso was, her legs, arms, and head completely disconnected from each other. Alexandra's decapitated head looks at me in a mix of hatred and shock, before slowly the taut skin of her face goes slack, those flaming eyes slowly dying out, revealing empty sockets.

Slowly, all of her remains lose that hellish glow, as her skin starts to grey into an ashy colour, flaking off here and there.

Alexandra Reid is well and truly dead.

As I stand up, I briefly think that the fighting has renewed itself as I hear something like gunfire, but as I tiredly let my head fall backwards, I realize it's just enormous amounts of firework going off.

 **January 1st, 2012 00:01**

"Happy New Year…" I softly mumble to myself, before a glow from the corner of my eye catches my attention.

As I lift up my clenched fist, I gaze at it in wonder.

Now, ever since I enhanced myself with Extremis, I had gotten somewhat used to parts of my body glowing at times. But that was usually in a reddish-orange hue, unless I actively tried to burn as hot as I could, in which case it would be a blinding white.

But this yellow glow?

Yeah, that was new.

* * *

 **AN:** Oof, this chapter was a bitch and a half! I had to rewrite it. 'How much of it?', I hear you ask. Well, my dear reader, here's the answer: ALL OF IT. See, I had this awesome showdown planned between all of the Hand and Michael at Midland Circle, but as I was almost finished with it, I realized a _very_ important thing: Midland Circle doesn't exist at this point in the timeline. So instead of just Michael vs Hand, I had to split up the Hand in their individual parts, which is why this chapter is just way too long. But I didn't want to cut it, because I promised this would be the final chapter in the Hand Arc, and gosh darn it all to heck, I kept my promise! Not all too happy about certain parts (especially Gao's part feels rushed) but I've been writing non-stop for two days straight now and it's currently 1am, so if they feel rushed, it's because they kinda are. No worries, when my fingers stop hurting (and I'm _not_ joking, they actually do hurt a bit, due to holding them in my cramped, weird-ass typing position for _nine_ hours straight), I'll go back into the chapter and catch any spelling mistakes, and probably rewrite some parts of it. For now, enjoy!

 **Fun Fact:** The X-men character Dazzler was actually created to serve as a multi-media cross-promotion between Casablanca Records and Marvel Comics. She was originally planned to have a real life equivalent with a record and a movie, but both ideas were dropped when disco started falling out of fashion, though the fictional character persists today as a part of the X-Men.

 _As always, all of my thanks to my wonderful Patrons, AndrewDC_MAC2, Thordur hrafn, Daniel Dorfman and ReaperScythe, with a very warm welcome to Miu! Welcome to the club and thank you all so much for your support, it really does mean a lot to me!_


	26. Interlude 5 (By SIDoragon)

**AN:** This was submitted to me by reader SIDoragon over on SpaceBattles, and I feel that it fits so well with the story that I'm making it canon. Enjoy!

* * *

 _ **Ninjas and spies and dragons oh my!**_

* * *

 **January 1st, 2012 01:12 EST**

The black SUV shot through the storm, its tires kicking up water and grit as it raced along the once well paved road, and rain pelted the windshield nearly as fast as the wipers could clear it.

As the automobile charged along at sixty miles an hour, two of the four occupants checked their phones nervously but never said a word to each other, while the other two in the front seats kept their eyes firmly on the road ahead and the rapidly approaching lights. Everything was soaked outside the confines of the reinforced metal box they rode in, caked with mud by the time vehicle closed on a mansion in the center of a rain-swept everglade.

Or what was left of it.

The vehicle decelerated quickly, skidding to a stop just twenty feet from where the front door once stood. The two men up front leapt out and took a few steps away, their eyes scanning for any threats as they firmly held their weapons – pointing down unless needed. The passengers waited a moment, surveying the scene outside before joining them.

Agent Phil Coulson had seen a lot of things over the years working with S.H.I.E.L.D., and this was far from his first burned out crime scene, but even he had to admit, "Well, this seems excessive."

"Really?," his companion for this road trip, Agent Jasper Sitwell, asked incredulously. "I thought the destruction of a multi-hundred million dollar residence would prompt a bigger reaction from you than that."

Phil shrugged it off. "It's been a long week. Destruction of private property, even on this scale, just doesn't seem all that interesting right now."

What was left unsaid where the reasons of the long week. Between seeing the living legend Agent Carter walking into the Triskelion looking just like some kind of Greek Goddess in a pantsuit, investigating a gang war in New York using Wakandan weaponry against a fire breathing demon, and the revelation that a honest to god dinosaur was running around the city, something as genial as a "mystery explosion" didn't really phase him right now.

The two men walked deeper into the ruins of the house, and Phil glanced around at the various agents on site going about their business. The whole property had been closed off within minutes of the first responders arriving, and S.H.I.E.L.D. had taken over the site a few minutes later when initial reports of a "monster" on site were pushed up the chain. Of course, it didn't take long for everyone to guess it was McCole – or Hyperion, as his code name had been designated – since Fury had dedicated one of the satellites to follow the man ever since the attack on Titan Solutions.

What had everyone confused was reports of the "monster" being dead. Fury wanted confirmation if it was true, and he especially wanted to know what could have possibly killed a man who had shrugged off heavy weapons fire like they were made from nerf darts.

Not much actually remained of the building itself, maybe the basement and a bit of the surrounding gardens, but what immediately got Phil's attention was the number of body bags littering the site. At first he thought they were just collecting evidence, weapons or some other items, and had just ran out of the usually clear bags. But after he pulled back on one of the zippers and saw the scorched and mangled body underneath, Coulson reevaluated.

Sitwell looked a little shaken as well, judging from the slightly green tint to his face. Or at least what could be seen from under the umbrella. Miami rains were frequent, but thankfully not usually heavy or long, and Phil could already see the sky starting to clear up.

A tech ran up to the two of them, face pale and solemn, but filled with a firm resolve that Phil didn't expect to see in someone so young. "Agent Coulson," she reached out with a tablet, and Phil took it, "I'm glad you're here. You are not going to believe what we have found so far."

Coulson's eyes skimmed the summary open on the tablet, "Let's hear it then."

"If you'll follow me, Sirs." The young woman turned and started to lead Phil and Sitwell thought the maze of caution tape, evidence flags and other agents on site who were swarming the place like ants. "When the initial team arrived they thought this might have been drug related, you know, like a meth lab or something blew up, but it only took all of five minutes to rule that out."

They stepped past a row of bodies. Phil could see a couple of smaller bags next to them, and realized they were just the right size for a head. It made him shiver slightly.

Continuing on, the agent added, "So as our techs arrived and began picking at the remains, we came up with an early estimate of more than a hundred corpses on site. Later we revised that to a hundred and twenty when we started to include the human-shaped ash piles and black scorch marks."

Sitwell spoke up, "So what did this? An explosion?"

The tech stopped in her tracks. "Honestly, sirs, you won't believe me until you see it."

Coulson and Stillwell shared a glance but then followed the young woman deeper into the ruins. She continued speaking, "The bodies were fewer here, but only because there was so little of them left. We've found several arms, a few legs, but nothing much larger than that. Most of them are clustered around where the entrance used to be."

"We saw a fair number of people outside on the drive and walk in." Phil added.

The tech shook her head, "We don't believe they died out there. We think they were thrown there by the blast."

"You know who they are?"

"We are running DNA, fingerprint and facial recognition on the few people we can, but so far it looks like two separate groups were involved."

"They blew each other up?" Phil asked, surprised.

The tech looked like she was about to smile, but then schooled her face. "No sir, we think that did it."

As the three of them crested a pile of debris, they found themselves looking down into a very expensive crater. Nothing was recognizable in the brick, wood and marble nest, but someone had managed to erect a protective tent over the fifty foot wide whole to keep the rain out of the crime scene.

Phil carefully schooled his face as he took in the site below, and tried his best not to leap to most obviously conclusions for what his eyes were seeing. Admittedly, he was having difficulty finding the words to describe it.

Sitwell did not. "Is that a fucking dragon?" he exclaimed.

Nodding, the tech clarified, "What is left of one."

The creature in the circle was the color of ash, and looked to be just as brittle. Phil could see parts of the remains just flaking off, turning to dust before his eyes. The head looked like some kind of dragon or dinosaur, partly, but he could also see that half of it was vaguely shaped like a human skull. The right arm was human, at least in size if not in form – couldn't possibly be mistaken for one with hands shaped into a three-digit appendance complete with talons, but the other was at least twenty feet long and reminded him of a pterodactyl skeleton he once saw. The lower body was even worse, mangled and twisted as it was, the bones were too big for the body and shifted out of the way to make room for a very long tail. And the torso, was just gone. The head, arms and legs all lead up to where the body should have been, but all them just suddenly ended in a twisted mess that reminded Phil of play-dough.

"It was dead when we got here," the tech began without preamble, "but the body was still warm. It has since rapidly cooled. As it has done so, the skin changed from a bright red to the current ashy white. And like ash, it is falling away at the smallest provocation. We are trying to keep the thing undisturbed as we take photos and wait for a biological team to arrive to collect it."

Looking around, the tech added, "Sadly, there were no recoverable samples. Anything that might have once had DNA literally burned away."

"How do you know?"

The tech looked at him. "There is marble down there, melted marble. That requires a temperature of at least eight hundred Celsius. DNA is unrecoverable after reaching one hundred Celsius for a few minutes. Whatever this thing was, it was well and truly cooked."

There was no heat or patronizing in her words, so Phil accepted her words at face value. To try and change the subject, he asked, "What can you tell me about the bodies?"

"That is where things get weird, Sir."

"Weirder than a hole in the ground with a dragon corpse inside?" Sitwell asked, his voice strained but not yet breaking.

"Respectfully, yes."

The young agent led then back down and away from the hole, and Phil found he actually had to force his feet to move as he really wanted to stay and look at the fallen beast. But with a small effort he did and followed close behind even as he lifted the tablet and recovered some of the photos taken of the creature from earlier, before its skin had begun to fall away.

"This was our first clue that something was very weird here," the tech offered. She walked up to one of the body bags, and began to unzip it. The remains inside were very badly broken, arms and legs missing, but otherwise in decent shape compared to many of the others Phil had seen.

He also noticed how the figure was dressed. "Is that a ninja?"

"Yes, sir." The tech reached under the bag, and retrieved an evidence bag, handing it to him. "And here is his weapon."

Phil held the long, slightly curved blade in his hands, and felt like a kid all over again. He had to fight the smile that was threatening to break out on his face. "So, we got dragons, and ninjas. What else?"

"Funny you should ask."

Sitwell blinked. "You can't be serious, there's more?"

Nodding, the tech waved them to follow and started to walk to another body not far away. When the bag was opened, Phil tried to desperately school his features as he recognized the face of the half melted man inside.

The Tech didn't notice him growing still and proceeded to explain, "S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Derik Ovington. I recognized him as soon as I saw him; we went to the Academy together. Good at his job, kind of an asshole, but a good Agent."

Looking up at the two men, she continued, "When I saw a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent here, I started making the rounds of the bodies we could account for. I won't claim to recognize all agents on site, but I did see three others here that I remember from my time at Operations. I've got a rush on identifying any others and we are going to cross reference them with the database to see how many active or former agents were on site."

"But what really has me confused is that they shouldn't have been here."

Sitwell looked at her, his face a mask. "If they were here they were on mission."

"Respectfully, sir, you are wrong," the agent looked at Jasper, and then at Phil. "I grew up in Miami. It's my home. So I keep a close eye on any S.H.I.E.L.D. operations in the area. At fifteen-thirty hours yesterday, when I checked, there was nothing on the books planned in this area. But if you look now, it says that there was a mission on the books for the last week and was entered two days ago. That doesn't happen."

Phil's brow furrowed. It wasn't unheard of missions to be backlogged if they were covert; it was a security precaution against any possible spy activity or hacking, but that only happened when the operation was finished and everyone had gone home. Usually a week later the books would be updated. And if this has been a covert mission that had gone wrong Fury would have told him as such when he was ordered here to investigate. The tech was right.

Sitwell however nearly took the tech's poor head off when he barked at her, "If they were here, they were on mission and that is final! Now go do your damn job!"

The tech glanced at him, and Phil nodded with an apologetic smile as she turned to leave. He would make sure to talk to her later.

"Kids today." Jasper said, exhaustion seeping into his voice. "Well, this is going to be a hell of a mess to explain."

Phil grinned as he read through the notes the tech had left him. "According to our records this place was owned by A.I.M. It's supposed to be a private residence, but from the size of the basement I would guess that they were doing some R&D here as well. And I would guess that the dragon had something to do with it."

Jasper, nodding added, "I think I saw some of that Amber Armor on a few bodies. Think there is any connection to McCole?"

"Oh, I'm sure he was here. But I don't think he got here until after the fireworks started. From the preliminary report, it appears that S.H.I.E.L.D. agents arrived on scene and engaged an as-yet unidentified hostile force that had seized A.I.M. employees. No way to tell what really happened after that. At some point a dragon appeared and seemed to have killed both sides indiscriminately, and then something – likely McCole – killed the dragon."

A long silence stretched out as both men let the events settle in their minds. There was a lot in that summary that neither man obviously liked, and a lot that raised questions that demanded answers.

"So, who is going to go arrest the freak?"

Phil looked over at his colleague, and felt the corners of his mouth quirk up. "For what exactly? Killing a mythological creature?"

He stretched his arm out and gestured towards the building, "I don't think Hyperion killed anything except that dragon, and I think that could either be considered self-defense, based on what it did to everyone else here, or mercy for the poor person that it once was."

Jasper opened his mouth, closed it, and then narrowed his eyes at Phil. "Did you actually use that ridiculous nickname?"

"Yeah, I did."

* * *

 **AN:** If you wish to write an Interlude or Omake as well, feel free to submit them to me over pm's! =)


	27. Mount Othrys

_**Mount Othrys**_

* * *

 **January 1st**

It took me an hour longer to return to New York, than the mere three hours it had taken me to fly to Miami. The reason for this was currently shivering in my arms as I slowly descended towards the top of the hotel I was staying at.

While I could handle flying in the cold January night sky at speeds that easily rivalled most conventional aircraft, Maya Hansen decidedly could not.

My immense body temperature kept her from freezing at least, though it didn't help much against the wind or rain. I had to slow down until we were flying at a speed where the little droplets of water didn't feel like knives slamming into her frail body.

Despite the fact that I had only been superhuman for little over a year now, I still occasionally forgot just how fragile humans are.

Touching down on the roof, I set Hansen on her feet, only to snatch her up again the moment she started to topple over. Looking down, I could see that she was utterly exhausted, and despite the fact that she had been clinging to me for the past four hours, she was shivering like mad.

Picking her up in a bridal carry with a sigh, I entered the building, swiftly making my way down to my room, where I placed her on the bed, and put her under the warm covers. Hansen was out like a light the moment her head hit the pillow.

I on the other hand didn't really need to sleep tonight, and even if I did, I doubt it would come to me.

Instead, I just stood by the window, listening as the rain made a soft pattering sound against the glass, the still partying New Yorkers far down below nothing more than a dim background noise, barely audible even to my senses.

I knew that I should be plotting and planning right now, after the defeat of one of my enemies. That _now_ was the time for Titan Solutions to rise from the ashes and take its new and improved place on the world stage.

But I figured that I could at least keep these few hours to myself, at least until Sterns and co arrived. Just a little me-time, before I dove back into the crazy world of the MCU again. Just me, the soft lights from the city around me, the rain tapping against the glass, and the fiery yellow glow coming from my fist.

Even as I stood there, I kept summoning and dismissing the legendary power of the Protector of K'un-Lun, trying to get a feel for it as it moved through my body. There was no urgency in my actions, this wasn't some feverish search for secrets to gaining more power.

This was just me, relaxing as I gazed in wonder at this display of a new ability of mine.

Again I summoned the Immortal Iron Fist, even if I knew that what I was currently wielding wasn't the same thing. Oh, it was powerful, to be sure, and considering the natural strength of my body, I think I could at the very least match Danny punch for punch, despite his better skill at chi manipulation.

But it was visibly different from Danny's version of this power. His was a soft glow, coming from within and clearly controlled, showing his veins in stark contrast. Mine wasn't anything like that.

It glowed yellow alright, but more like the deeper shade you saw in flames, or the sun, rather than the outspoken lemon-yellow of Danny's Iron Fist. It also glowed uniform, not showing my veins, probably because they naturally lit up already due to Extremis. And it wasn't quite as… controlled, as Danny's version was, appearing more like the God Fist skin for Lee Sin, a character from the video game League of Legends, which existed both here and in my old universe (though they had differing playable characters and maps).

Little wisps of pure power shimmered and danced across the surface of my skin, the air around my hand wavering with the heat that was coming from it. I wasn't even trying to warm it up, it just seemed that a side effect of channelling chi like I was doing meant that it also kicked the natural processes in my body into a higher gear.

It probably was one of the reasons why chi was capable of healing, though I held off for now on making any more speculations.

Once I had built a new base, me and my think tank could study chi to our hearts content.

For now, I was just amusing myself.

Again, I let go of that feeling of power, and the glow faded from my hand. Calling on my chi felt very distinct from drawing from the power that I gained from Jessica, and yet it felt rather familiar as well.

Jessica's power was like a field, that I drew from some well, deep inside me, that went over my entire body like a second skin. Interestingly enough, it didn't interact with my body all that much: it didn't enhance my muscles, it simply took over their task of applying force. Until I put Jessica under a CAT-scan (due to my immensely dense skin, I wasn't sure such a scan would even work for me, and I sure as hell didn't fit in one of those machines), I wasn't sure whether Jessica _produced_ her energy, or _channelled_ it from another source right now, but to me it felt like I was doing the former.

But channelling chi… that was a whole other ballpark. If heating my body up using Extremis felt somewhat like clenching a muscle, channelling chi felt as if I was both working out my individual cells down onto the microscopic level, as well as flexing my _soul_ somehow. Chi had been described as a spiritual force channelled through the body, and it certainly felt like it, raw power crashing through my very veins, fed through my spirit or something.

It reminded somewhat me of how chakra was explained in Naruto. Then again, chi, chakra, ki, weren't they all at least somewhat the same on some fundamental energy? In all cases, wasn't this the life energy of a being, being fuelled for various purposes through rituals, meditation or training?

Something to explore later, I suppose, but for now, there's a more important question.

Could I layer my powers?

During my fight with the Alexandra Dragon (wait… _Alexandragon_! Yeah, totally using that from now on) I had used the energy field inside me in order to fuel one of my punches, to great effect. I suspected that Jessica did this naturally with her own field, cloaking herself in her power whenever she used her superstrength, and that it was only due to the Heart-shaped Herb that I could even feel what I had been doing.

So what if I enveloped my fist with my powerfield, and _then_ charged the fist itself with chi?

And what if I _then_ heated my fist up with Extremis?

The combination of Extremis heat and Jessica's field had been enough to evaporate Alexandragons chest, and punch an enormous crater in Killian's house. What would I be capable of if I added my bootleg version of the Iron Fist into the mix?

A shiver of anticipation ran up my raised spine, but I controlled myself.

As excited as I was to take my new power for a test ride, I knew that it would be impossible for me to test it in the city. That immediately gave me the first criteria for my next base: close to New York, without actually being inside it so that I'm still free to undertake large-scale damage tests.

Of course, if I was planning on doing some _real_ damage, I could always just decide to take off and be practically everywhere in the States within a couple of hours.

And so I just stood there in front of the window, calling upon my chi, only to let it fade again, constantly examining the feeling inside me as I did. I tried to channel my Iron Fist into my other hand, but it proved extremely difficult to manipulate my chi in the same way I manipulate my field.

This wasn't a power that surrounded my body, this was a power that came from _within_ my body, from each and every cell. Trying to draw chi away from those cells just made them power down, it didn't light up those adjacent to it.

Still, I knew that it could be done, considering the fact that Bakuto had shown Danny a video of an Iron Fist wielding his power in both arms in the show. If he wasn't such a murderous immortal asshole, I might have kept him alive in order to teach me chi manipulation, but that would've been too risky. Given that chi could be 'perverted' somehow, like the Hand had apparently done, Bakuto might have been able to trick me into crippling or even killing myself due to applying my chi the wrong way or something.

No, the world was better off with that bastard being a smear on the ground.

I also didn't know how to get my hands on Stick or any of the Chaste, so it was probably better to just wait and see if they approached me, either to have a drink with me or to try and take me out. Either one would be ineffective either way, but the latter option would be more troublesome. It was a moot point anyways, since I had no way to contact them. Meaning they too were out as a teacher.

But I knew of at least one other person here in New York who had dabbled in the mystic arts, though in a different branch than chi. Still, his teachings might show me how to gain better control over my own powers, and I could always learn more from his skills in magic.

Seems I would be tracking down Jonathan Pangborn.

Well not really, I would probably just end up sending Jessica after him, there was _a lot_ that needed doing and only five months to do it in, meaning that I was going to be swamped for the foreseeable future, but still, the point stands.

Magic will be mine soon.

It was several hours after I had formulated that first tentative step of my coming plans, when Sterns and co. finally arrived at the hotel, the light of dawn just starting to peek over the horizon.

The little group quickly filed into my hotel room, Radcliffe looking at me with excitement in his eyes, and judging by the way his eyes kept flitting over every single item in the room in a flash, he had already been Brain Boosted.

Harper, of course, didn't say a word, merely giving me a nod and a grunt and making a beeline towards the minibar. I wasn't sure why, it's not like there was anything in there that could make him drunk, but I decided not to pry.

Sterns was standing next to his fellow scientist with an equally large grin on his face, but I could tell that he was somewhat worried about me. He was clearly wondering just where my head was at now that I had completed my counterattack, though I doubted he knew all the details.

The last to enter was Jessica, and she appeared to be… conflicted. She only met my eyes briefly, before she quickly looked away, walking over towards the couch and flopping down on it without saying a single word to me.

Before I could even think on the dour woman's behavior, Radcliffe was suddenly standing right in front of me, hand outstretched as he grinned up at me.

"Holden Radcliffe, a pleasure to meet you. But you knew that of course! I have to say, this _Brain Booster_ of yours? Amazing! These ideas that keep shooting through my head, everything that I struggled with seems so _simple_ now! Thank you! Thank you _so_ much!"

Shaking the transhumanist's hand, I let out a sly little smile as I looked at the man who in another universe would end up pushing the boundaries of modern science forwards by decades at least, _before_ he was augmented by a technological treasure trove from the Hell Dimension.

And now he was here, working for me, and Brain Boosted to that same level of genius. I was looking forward to seeing what he could be able to cook up for me, as long as it didn't end up trying to kill everyone and of course. In terms of loyalty however, Holden Radcliffe would prove to be one of the easiest persons in my employ to keep in check.

"Greetings doctor. You are _very_ welcome. I am sure that Titan Solutions, and indeed humanity itself, will benefit greatly from your work. Though I think that _one_ person in particular would enjoy the fruits of your labour. I'm heading towards Spain in the near future, as there is an item there that I wish to collect. You are free to join me of course, I think that someone there would very much like to see you again." I say warmly as I shake the man's hand, and when I reference his ex-girlfriend who currently has an incurable tumour in her brain, his jaw falls open in shock.

"Imagine the possibilities working for me could grant you, Dr. Radcliffe. _This_ time, with _my_ help, you might even _succeed_." I whisper, as I lean in close to the man.

Radcliffe looked up at me with wide eyes, filled with hope and excitement, and giving him a smile, I reach into the pocket of my pants (a fresh pair, since the one from last night were severely singed and filled with tears and bullet holes) fishing out a key card, which I presented to the awestruck scientist.

"Think on the future a bit more, Dr. Radcliffe. You have just had an exhausting trip, try and get some rest in your room. It is just down the hall from mine, so if you need something, _anything_ at all, feel free to come by any time you wish."

Numbly taking the card and grabbing his suitcase, Radcliffe left my room, his mind filled with new and improved plans to save his dying girlfriend. By pledging my help to save the woman he loved, I had been assured the loyalty of one of the most brilliant men on Earth.

Turning towards _the_ most brilliant man on Earth, I allowed a small, but genuine, smile to form on my face.

"Same goes for you Sterns. Go get some rest. We'll talk about rebuilding Titan Solutions in the morning, I want Hogarth and her team present for it anyways, and Jeri has told me in no uncertain terms that today is her day off, considering the events around New Year's."

"Yeah, about those events… what exactly happened? You said that you were going to counter-attack against the Hand, so… how did that go?" Sterns asked in a hesitant tone, and I could hear Jessica sit up a little straighter on her couch.

Harper had simply taken a seat in the armchair and was quietly nursing a bottle of Jack as he stared out the window, outwardly not even reacting to us, but I knew that the aged veteran was closely following each and every word.

"It went… well. Three of the five leaders of the Hand have been killed. Permanently. One of the remaining ones is a warlord in Africa, so I imagine he'll have his hands busy with Erik and Wakanda's expansion. The other one is holed up somewhere in Japan. Don't know much about him, other than the fact he didn't much care for the other leaders, so there's a real possibility of him just ending up doing his own thing. At the moment, neither one of them is a problem, so we should focus on rebuilding first, before we start on threat-assessment." I explained calmly, but Sterns didn't seem entirely convinced.

"Right. Right, of course. But, eh, the _killing_ thing… what I told you over the phone…"

"I'm okay, Sterns. Like you said, I'm no saint, and I don't regret my actions. But I'm not a monster. I did some pretty bad stuff in order to get to the leaders of the Hand, and I recognize that. I didn't _enjoy_ it, but if I had to do it again, I would. Although, punching a dragon in the heart turned out to pretty rewarding." I say with a half-smile, amusement dancing in my burning eyes as I see Sterns' jaw fall open in shock.

"You did _what_?!"

"Right, quick recap: you know how I told you that the Hand was capable of bringing back people from the dead by using material extracted from the bones of dragons? Their leader, Alexandra Reid, was dying, and the Elixir needed to bring her back to life had been practically used up. So, she went to AIM, which was backed by Hydra, but who employed the Mandarin, leader of the terrorist organisation The Ten Rings as a front. The Rings were the ones that kidnapped Stark. Turns out, the Mandarin was actually loyal to the Hand, betrayed Hydra, and turned over AIM to Alexandra."

"Just skip the exposition already and tell us where the fucking _dragon_ comes in." Jessica spoke up from her position on the couch, making my grin grow even wider.

"I just told you about her. As it turns out, the Extremis regenerative properties didn't affect just Alexandra… it started working on the dragon substance within her as well. She started to mutate into a dragon, and was ripping apart both Hydra and her own underlings, it was _brutal_. I had extracted her location from the other two leaders of the Hand I managed to kill, so I tracked her down, flew in, ripped open her chest, and punched her in the heart."

For a moment, the room is completely silent, before I see Sterns turn slightly green, muttering a weak 'oh god' as he stumbled towards the nearest seat, flopping down on it with a drawn expression. Turning around to face Jessica, I see her sitting up fully on the couch, looking at me with incredulous eyes. Behind her, still sitting in his armchair, Harper had paused in his drinking to raise an eyebrow in my direction.

Then he gave a shrug, turned back to the windows and continued to raise the bottle to his lips.

Damn. If not even killing a dragon faced that man, then what the hell did?

" _Why_ did you punch the dragon-lady in the _heart_?! Why not, I dunno, shoot her, or drop a building on her?!" Jessica asks, clearly struggling with the concept of me going around and killing dragons, with my bare hands no less.

For a moment, I ponder her words, before I just end up giving a shrug and a smile.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time?"

Jessica opens her mouth to rebuke me, before she's interrupted by Sterns.

"Hang on. You said you _flew_ there? Why do I get the feeling that you don't mean using the repulsors in your armor?" the scientist asks as he leans forwards in his chair, fixing me with a suspicious look.

Giving a massive grin in response, I slowly start drifting upwards, until my feet are about a foot off the ground, my bald head brushing the ceiling.

And I'm still only clad in my pants.

Turning towards Jessica, I open my arms wide, slowly spinning in place before I turn to face her again. Something in my grin clearly sets her off, because her look of amazement is replaced by one of wariness, and she slowly gets up from the couch, backing away from me.

"The fuck are you so happy about?"

"Today is going to be a fun day for me, Miss Jones. Because today, I'm gonna throw you off a building."

…

" _WHAT_!"

* * *

After explaining to Jessica and a concerned Sterns (Harper didn't seem at all bothered by my cryptic statement) that my flight had been a result of applying Jessica's powers to myself, meaning that there was a high chance that the surly woman was capable of flight as well, things quickly started to pick up speed.

I showed my bootleg Iron Fist (I really should come up with a different name for it. Tungsten Fist?) to Sterns, Radcliffe and a recently woken up Hansen. The woman had recovered admirably from the events around New Year, and the promise of safety, along with the knowledge that I could provide that safety (seems killing the dragon that wanted to eat her made an impression) meaning that she would be loyal to me.

Though she did almost punch Sterns in the face when he casually mentioned perfecting the Extremis formula in a matter of days, when she had been slaving over it for the past year.

After quickly making sure everyone was up to speed on recent events, I made sure to call everyone in my employ, telling them that there would be a company meeting tomorrow, where we would collectively decide on the future of Titan Solutions.

Of course, being the kind of dick that I am, I didn't decide to give my employees a voice solely out of altruistic reasons. It was simply because collectively, the twenty Extremis/Amber Armor enhanced workers of Titan Solutions were amongst the most powerful fighting force in the world.

Hydra had been able to topple nations with less than what I had at my disposal.

With the hit that Titan Solutions had just taken, I _needed_ to keep them loyal to me. There was a very real chance that, as grateful as they might personally be to me for bettering their lives, they would still turn their backs on me if they thought the danger outweighed the benefits, especially now that one of our enemies had proven they weren't above hitting us where we lived.

I was hoping that by including them more in the planning side of things, they would feel more valued, and thus keep working for me.

The day of the meeting, I quickly lined out what we would be discussing, mainly that we would focus building a new base first before we even considered focussing on anything else. All later Steps would require me to have an HQ where I could safely stash items and perform research, and Titan Solutions needed a workshop for its scientist to create tech that we would sell to the world.

After listing a series of criteria (vicinity of New York, defensible, private, etc.) I opened the floor to everyone who had any ideas on what would be a good site for building the new base. I of course had quite a few idea's myself, based on my meta-knowledge, but I held off from adding my own two cents, for two reasons.

One, like I said, I needed my employees to feel more connected to me and the company. Just following my own suggestions would undermine that. It was better to just let them stew on it, until they came up with something great, or something unusable, or even nothing at all, in which case I'd jump in to save the day, so to speak.

And secondly, I wasn't quite sure just how much I should lean on my meta-knowledge. I wasn't going to just outright discard it, but finding out that I had been wrong about the Mandarin had really rattled me, though I didn't show it.

What especially worried me wasn't the fact that my meta-knowledge was incomplete (I knew that it was, considering I hadn't watched all the shows) or even wrong (it had been a _long_ time since I had watched any MCU movies or series, even when taking my new recall in mind), but the possibility that the Plot would correct itself.

Despite the changes I had made to the timeline, it seemed that there was still a possibility of Iron Man 3 playing out, considering I had no confirmation that the Mandarin had died during Alexandragons rampage.

If the universe edited itself to preserve the canon-timeline, then it meant that I couldn't really change anything at all. Everything I did would just screw with my meta-knowledge, while certain events would still play out nonetheless. What did that mean for those I had killed, like the Fingers? Or what about Ross? Who's going to spearhead the Accords now?

In the end, I decided that I wouldn't worry about changing the timeline or preserving canon in order to keep most of my meta-knowledge, considering the waves I had already been making. It would be best to just stick to the Plan, while at the same time, leaning less heavily on my meta-knowledge, instead basing my decision making more on the knowledge that I had gained and had access to in-universe.

As I sat pondering this, I barely even noticed when the room began to quiet, the sea of voices that all had been discussing why their suggestion was best starting to fade. Looking up, I saw Sterns, who had been keeping track of the discussion, finish writing something on the enormous whiteboard we had set up for the meeting, underlining his words with a flourish.

As he stepped back, I could finally read what he had written.

 _North Brother Island_.

Immediately, the relevant information surfaced to my brain, courtesy of living in New York for more than twenty years. The Island was located in the East River between the Bronx and Rikers Island. North Brother Island was once the site of a hospital, but it was now uninhabited and designated as a bird sanctuary after the city bought it in 2007.

The City itself however didn't quite know what to do with it either, and there had been rumors floating around that the City Council was considering selling it.

It would be perfect.

As an added bonus, having named myself after Hyperion, the Titan who stood at the East end of the world when he and his three brothers held the Sky down so that Chronos could overthrow his father Ouranos, it was only fitting that I would have a base in the _East_ River, wouldn't it?

Looking at the room filled with my grinning employees, my eyes fell on the burly man who had suggested it (just because I had been deep in thought didn't mean that I had been unaware of my surroundings) and I slowly gave him a smile.

"You, sir, have just earned yourself a promotion."

* * *

 **March 6th**

It had taken little over two months to get the paperwork finalized, have ownership of the Island transferred to me, tear down the old decrepit buildings and finish building my new HQ.

Covering about half of the Island and appearing almost like a tiered dull grey Ziggurat, I had unleashed my thinktank on its construction, ordering them to go absolutely crazy, fortifying it to hell and back. Burstein of course had come up with a concrete-like compounded that easily rivalled the durability of my own skin, meaning that a wall of just a couple of inches thick would be capable of weathering heavy artillery fire for a full day before being damaged.

I ordered the outer walls of the base to be _five feet_ thick instead.

Radcliffe had taken on the electronics part of things, placing an interconnected system of sensors that covered every square inch of the island, the surrounding waters, and even the air.

He had also worked on the security of the fortress itself, installing a mainframe that ran on its own coding language, which could only interact with people that were keyed into it through a bio-matrix interface that Hansen had created after she had been Brain Boosted, meaning that it was basically unhackable if you weren't an employee of Titan Solutions.

The mainframe handled everything automated inside the building, from temperature, to lights, to security, and taking a page out of the movie Irobot, could be interacted with from everywhere inside the building, since a LED strip ran through each and every single room (exceptions were made for the bathrooms of course).

Interacting with the base was done by calling up a haptic interface, which was projected from the strips lining the walls, meaning that you could walk towards a wall, tap it, and a digitized sheet would appear on the wall, showing you the functions of that room. You could then literally pluck it off the wall and take it over towards a couch or something and turn it into a tv or a book, or basically everything you could think of.

Only I had master access, meaning that I could control every room simultaneously, and only me, and Harper had the clearance to mess with the security settings.

And Sterns?

Sterns did _everything_ else. After I had ordered the construction teams (helpfully provided by Toomes after I had personally given him the multi-millions dollar contract) to start digging, so that only a third of the massive structure actually showed to any curious onlookers, he went one step further, and made an underground hangar that was located at the other end of the Island, that was connected to HQ by a tunnel, and to the East River by another tunnel, accessible through the small artificial lagoon he had created, leaving a way out for any future submersibles (though Oliver had seemed suspiciously wet after Sterns went off to test the entrance).

Even the roof could open, allowing our vehicles to fly straight out of the ground, like some kind of Thunderbirds spinoff.

Between the combined intelligence of the Think Tank, and my own innovative idea's (basically ripping off every cool sci-fi feature I ever saw in movies and games during the combined forty years that I had been alive) the massive Ziggurat was easily the most advanced and secure facility in the world.

Hidden weapons in the walls, state of the art entertainment systems, highly advanced laboratories, and sparring rooms, the base had everything that we could ever hope to need, and could easily withstand a siege from every single organization in the world.

With the adaptive shielding that Sterns and Radcliffe had created together (which also covered the generator that was powering it, which was hidden on one of the sublevels. Thanks, Evil Overlord List) I'm pretty sure that we could even survive nuclear bombardment.

Fittingly for the fortified abode of the Titan Hyperion, I had named it Othrys, after the stronghold of the Titans during the Titanomachy, the war with the Olympian Gods.

One might question why I named my base after the one used by the losing side, but to that I could do nothing but shrug and say that calling it Olympos, while definitely cool, just didn't fit with the theme.

But now that Othrys had finally been finished, I could get on with the rest of my Steps. I only had two months until Loki arrived on Earth, and I had an enormous amount of work that I wanted to get done before he did, though I knew that it was unlikely that I would succeed in all of my plans.

The solution?

Prioritizing.

Sitting behind the humongous desk that I had designed for myself, I flicked my wrist upwards, causing a holographic screen to appear above the shining black surface. It was a list, and it was divided in two halves: objects and people.

They were ranked in easiest to hardest to acquire, and I was trying to see which one I should go to first. Most of the things that were the hardest to get to were either hidden away in Europe, or in secure storage in one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s sites. For instance, the Berserker staff, while lacking in any protections like some of the other items were, was split in three parts and hidden all over Europe, meaning that I couldn't just pop over and collect it.

In the same vein, some of the people that I wanted to get my hands on were more difficult to get to than others. Jonathan Pangborn would be relatively easy to track down, but Whitehall, whose brain I wanted to pick, was significantly more difficult to locate.

It was unfortunately very likely that I would be unable to get all the items and people on my list, but I should be able to gather enough that dealing with the Invasion would be a breeze.

Granted, Othrys amounted for a _very_ large part of that (a leviathan could fall on top of the base, and the lights wouldn't even flicker at the impact, due to some nifty Wakandan reverse-engineered tech focused around shock absorption incorporated into our foundations) but the other items should give me the extra edge I need should a certain Trickster decide to throw down with me.

A chime sounded from the other end of my office (which basically took up the entire top slab of the Ziggurat-shape) and with a simple tap against my desk, the vault-like door opened automatically without even a whisper of a sound.

Amazing, the stuff Radcliffe could get up to when you gave him free reign.

Speaking of which, he, Sterns, Harper and Jessica quickly filed into the room, Jessica glancing at the futuristic looking office with a raised eyebrow.

"A bit… bare, don't you think?" she drawled, taking in the unadorned ferrocrete (turns out Burstein was a huge Star Wars fan) of my office walls.

"Once I start raking in trophies, I'll let you hammer them to the walls, how's that sound?" I asked with a smile, getting a shrug from the woman.

"Boring." She said with an eye roll, making my smile grow just a bit wider.

"Well, if you really feel that way, I suppose we could go for another round of aerial dodgeball again instead?" I offered, enjoying as Jessica made a face as if she had just bit down on something extremely sour.

"And give you an excuse to throw me out the window, and _then_ throw tons of crap at me? Thanks, but I'll pass."

Turns out, Jessica can indeed fly.

As it also turns out, however, she's got aviophobia, meaning that she's absolutely terrified of flying.

That little inconvenience didn't stop me of course. It wasn't really all that crucial to my plans whether Jessica could fly or not, but giving her that extra mobility would speed my Steps up significantly. So after carefully confirming that she did in fact have the power of flight (I just picked her up, placed her on my toes, and then gently hovered, trying to give her a feel for how I was using my field) I had taken to randomly throw her either off tall places, or just straight up in the air.

Once she could (somewhat) fly, I had thought up aerial dodgeball, based off a quote from an enjoyably bad movie back in my old universe, which I decided to use in order to try and help Jessica overcome her phobia.

"If you can dodge a car, you can dodge a dodgeball!"

However, due to a lack of cars that I had available to throw at Jessica, I had taken to throwing enormous blocks of ferrocrete at her when she was in mid-air (always making sure to only do so when there was nobody in the immediate vicinity who could get hurt, the ferrocrete itself was tough enough to handle being thrown around) making her so angry she actually forgot about her phobia and started using her power of flight to avoid getting hit in the face by a hyper-durable piece of concrete.

Again.

Still, despite the fact that I helped her deal with her phobia (somewhat. She _could_ fly, now she just didn't _want_ to), when she touched down she spent a full hour trying to beat me to a pulp.

Really glad I only enhanced her with the Amber Armor treatment _after_ the dodgeball lessons, otherwise she might have actually been capable of doing a bit of damage.

I was only slightly worried how strong she'd turn out to be once we've managed to tailor the Extremis virus specifically for her, so that it plays nice with her genetics, and enhance her even further. She was already plenty dangerous with the Amber Armor and the Brain Booster, the things she'd be capable of after being enhanced with Extremis and potentially chi training…

Drawing me from my horrified musings, Sterns spoke up.

"So, what did you call us in for Michael?"

"Right. For now, Titan Solutions is doing just fine without any new input from me, considering that Jeri's currently out there transforming the tech we put into Othrys into marketable, large-scale technology for the masses. Smart homes should be a thing by the end of the year, and she told me yesterday that there are quite a few celebrities that are interested in having their new mansion designed by TS. As well as a couple of prisons that want our designs, but we'll need to be selective in what we supply to them, so they can't turn it around on us."

"Naturally. But what does that mean for us?" Radcliffe cut in.

The man, while brilliant and certainly happy with all the work that he was allowed to put into building Othrys, was getting antsy. He wanted to start working on a cure for his ex-girlfriend, but with the rebuilding of Titan Solutions, there was always something getting in his way.

"Right. It means that I'm free to pursue my original plans. I can do a lot, but I can't do _everything_ on my own, so I'm giving you assignments. Jessica, I need you to find _this_ man, and bring him to me." I said, flicking my hand forwards, and another screen popped up, flying at the woman and coming to a halt in front of her.

The holographic screen showed a photo of Jonathan Pangborn, with his personal details listed to the side.

Grabbing the haptic window by the top, Jessica fished a glass plate out of her back pocket, before pushing the screen onto it, where it automatically refitted itself to the size of her phone.

"What's he got that you want?" Jessica asked as her eyes skimmed the list of information I had been able to pull on the man.

"Magic." I said simply, drawing surprised looks from the people in my office (with Harper being the exception of course), but none of them looked disbelieving.

A quick demonstration of my Tungsten Fist (no, that doesn't sound right either) had quickly silenced any and all doubts about there being at least a kernel of truth to mysticism.

It had also conveniently dug a large enough hole in the earth that we could immediately get started on building the subterranean levels.

"This guy knows magic?" Jessica asked, still somewhat sceptic, though her expression changed when her eyes fell on the part that listed Pangborn's injuries and medical diagnosis.

"At the very least, he knows enough about magic that he can make himself walk again, even if it's medically impossible. I want him onsite _before_ me and Hansen finally start our testing on chi: she just finished the wing for mystical research this morning, and she can hardly wait to get started. His insights could prove _very_ valuable. If he needs an incentive, just tell him that I'm willing to heal his legs for him. Permanently."

As a person who was currently in New York and without any noteworthy protections, Pangborn was at the top of my list. Jessica gave a curt nod, before turning on her heel and stalking out of my office, clearly struggling somewhat with bringing another unsuspecting fly into my web.

After she had returned from her assignment to collect Radcliffe, the woman had approached me with the dreaded words 'we need to talk'. As it turned out, my rampage had unsettled Jessica, and she was wondering just what kind of man she was working for.

For all that she had a rather blasé attitude regarding a lot of things, she drew the line at working for villains.

And so we ended up talking.

A _lot_.

It started out at just how I saw those working under me. Were they disposable pawns, or were they people that I genuinely cared about? Then she asked whether I hired her solely because I wanted her power for myself, and now that I did have it, was I just going to get rid of her? And following _that_ question, she asked me why I was always looking for more power? What was my goal, exactly?

Deciding that honesty was the best policy in this case, I decided to just be plain and upfront with Jessica. Yes, I recruited people because of their potential usefulness to me, but I didn't think of anybody as disposable, and I sure as hell wasn't going to just kick her to the curb now that I had her power. And as for why I needed power in the first place?

 _Very_ briefly I considered telling her that I wanted to gain omnipotence before some alien bastard wipes out half the universe (or the entirety of the universe, in Malekith's or Ego's case) but I eventually decided against it, not really trusting Jessica to believe me if I told her something like that.

For all that those working for me had seen some weird shit, this was still Earth pre-Invasion. The notion of some alien warlord, millions of lightyears away managing to wipe out half of _all_ life in the entire fucking universe?

Yeah, even post-Invasion, that would've been difficult to believe for most people.

Instead I told her part of the truth: initially, I was scared of being turned into collateral damage, some no name character that was smushed by stray debris the moment shit hit the fan. Now those days were firmly behind me, but I didn't stop trying to obtain more power, precisely because it was there to be taken.

This universe had the tools to turn yourself into a god, and I was already halfway there.

I wasn't going to stop.

Though Jessica seemed pleased by the way that I viewed my people, she still seemed somewhat disappointed in my less than altruistic reasons for trying to gather more power, so she had moved to lighter topics, and we ended up drinking the night away together.

Nothing happened (though I _did_ have to drop her at her room. Seems even Jessica can get knocked out after drinking the entire bar dry) but I did feel that Jessica's loyalty to me and the company had been strengthened. She may not like being put on an assignment to reel someone in, but I was confident that she'd do it anyways.

Turning towards the remaining non-scientist, I gave Harper his assignment, once again calling up a holographic screen, before swiping it to his phone.

"Harper, I'm sending you out as well. This guy is dangerous. _Very_ dangerous. He infects the people around him with a virus that make them slaves to his every whim. He says jump, you wouldn't even be able to muster the will to ask 'how high'. Now, originally I wanted to wait with dealing with him until I've picked up a certain team from Siberia, but once I get in Europe, I'll probably stick around there for a bit, so there's no time. You're the only person in my employ with both the skill, and the physiology, to take him either _in_ , or _down_."

That statement draws the first change in facial expression from the aged veteran since he has stepped foot in my offense, a slight raising of his eyebrow.

"Search and destroy? You sure 'bout this? Ain't easy to switch your mind after the deed is done, you know." Harper said slowly, clearly not having a problem with the act itself as much as wondering whether it was the proper action to take in the first place.

"Trust me, Harper. This guy once told a man to go fuck himself. Do you want to see the pictures?" I say idly, raising an eyebrow in the man's direction.

Though Sterns and Radcliffe turn a bit green around the gills, Harper just blinks once, before minutely shaking his head.

"Nah. I'm good."

Calling up two other screens, I send those over towards him as well, explaining as I do so.

"The guy literally just goes around, and sleeps where and with whoever he wishes. He has destroyed hundreds, if not thousands of lives, just with casual cruelty and pettiness. As such, he has no weak points, nobody we can use to apply pressure to him, _except_ for those two." I say, pointing at the picture of the Thompsons.

"They experimented on their kid ever since he was born, effectively torturing him until he went completely around the bend and came back out the other end. But with mind-controlling powers. Bring them in. It'll allow me to squeeze all of their research from them, and it would work perfectly as bait for their son. Extremis should protect you from him, but if you know you are to engage him in close range, wear a hazmat suit just to be safe."

Raising his eyebrows a bit at the intel and the warning I gave him, Harper shut off his phone, and exited my office, throwing a 'sure thing, boss' over his shoulder as he just up and left.

Turning towards my best friend, I looked at Sterns as I called up another screen.

"Sterns, I want you to continue with your Pym Particle-research. Given that we used it to great effect during the creation of Othrys, I'm confident it's safe enough that we can start brokering deals with spacefaring agencies, construction and even transportation of non-organic goods. It should be enough to keep Cross off our backs if we include him in all the deals, make it seem like it was his doing all along. But I'm giving you a little sideproject."

And with that, I send the screen his way, making his eyebrows rise in surprise as he looks at a map of Missouri, with several Dairy Queens highlighted.

"You… want to take over a fast food chain?" Sterns asks incredulously, drawing a smile from me.

"As amusing as it would be to see Stark's reaction, no, unfortunately not Sam. Located in the vicinity of _one_ of those Dairy Queens lies an item of great power, organic in nature. I currently don't have the time to just fly over to Missouri and start searching in random patterns, so I want you to build me a scanner of sorts, something that can pick out anomalous wavelengths from great distances."

"You want me to track something without even knowing what I should look for? Honestly Michael, this sounds like something you might want Dr. Banner for-"

"I have the utmost confidence that you will succeed in creating the device, Sam." I say with a genuine smile, one which widens when I see Sterns stand a little straighter.

"Sure thing Michael. I'll have it done in no time."

And with that, Sterns leaves my office as well, leaving me alone with Radcliffe, who gives me an exited smile as my burning gaze turns towards him.

"So! What you got for me then? Finding someone who cannot be found? Unearthing something that has not seen the light of day in millennia? Creating something that not even Stark can dream of?"

Letting out a loud laugh at the exited scientist, I call up three separate screens this time.

"Amazingly, Radcliffe, you've managed to hit the nail on the head: I want you to do all three." I say with a chuckle, as I swipe the screens from my desk to his phone.

The first picture that looks up at him is the face of Daisy Johnson, along with her public record (which was even more depressingly bare than mine when I had left the orphanage. The girl did _not_ want to be found).

"That there is Miss Poots, aka Skye. I'm sure that if _you_ try and dig, you'll uncover bits and pieces from her past, but all I've got for you now is her current alias, and her known associates. Ever heard of Rising Tide?"

"Yeah. Bunch of hackers right? All about freedom of information, that kinda shite?" Radcliffe mused as he started scrolling down the little known information on Miss Johnson.

"Correct. She's part of their group, and she's pretty damned good. I refuse to let her waste her incredible skills working from a van for a bunch of idealists. I want her working for Titan Solutions instead, and I want _you_ to make it happen."

Looking up in confusion as I said that, Radcliffe frowned at me.

"Look, I'm flattered and all that, but why come to me? I thought Miss Jones was the one you sent out on retrieval missions?"

"True, but Skye is mobile, and she's smart. There will be a _very_ faint trail for Jessica to follow, and it would take time to track a hacker of Skye's calibre down when she doesn't want to be found in the first place. But by putting _you_ on the case, I don't have to track her down at all. I can make her come to us."

"And how were you planning on doing that-… oh." Radcliffe trailed off as he came on the last page.

It was Skye's S.H.I.E.L.D. file, and just about every single line in there had been redacted. Looking up at me intrigued, I gave a sly little smile as I leaned back in my custom made chair.

"The thing that Skye wants the most in the world is answers about her past. The thing that she _hates_ the most is not being able to outsmart something. Or some _one_. And I can use both against her. I have the answers she's looking for, and _you_ can leave something for her to find that she can _barely_ outthink. And then you leave something else for her to find, and then-"

"A trail of breadcrumbs." Radcliffe realizes, gaining an approving nod from me.

"Instead of wasting months hunting her down, we can just stay put and have her knocking on our door within the week."

Giving a chuckle of approval at my dastardly plan, Radcliffe closes Daisy's screen, before moving to the next one.

"Fine. I'll do it. Now what's this then?"

" _That_ is the thing that hasn't seen sunlight in millennia that I want you to uncover. Though calling an entire alien city a _thing_ doesn't sound quite right, wouldn't you agree?"

Looking up at me in shock, Radcliffe slowly returns his eyes to the holographic screen in front of him, intently reading every little scrap about the Kree City that I could remember, and whatever relevant information I could dig up about it in-universe.

"Alien technology, sitting right under our noses for untold millennia, Doctor. And it could be _ours_. Technology that caused the original inhabitants to be revered as angles, _gods_ even, during a time that man had just started stacking stone blocks and calling them buildings. Imagine the secrets we could uncover there, Doctor. The revolution we could unleash. The way we could help humanity. The way we could help-" and with a quick swipe of my hand, the last screen shows up on Radcliffe's phone, showing a photo of Agnes Kitsworth and him together.

"- _her_." I finish intently, watching Radcliffe's wondering face very closely.

"I'm planning a trip to Europe Holden. There are quite a few locations there that are of great interest to me, one of them in Spain which I plan to visit. Hasn't she moved there not long ago, waiting to die in piece?"

"Yes." Radcliffe whispered, his eyes fixed on the smiling face on the woman who he had loved.

The woman who had only years to live.

"Here's my proposal. I go to Europe, and I end my trip in Spain, where I find Agnes. Meanwhile, you travel to Puerto Rico, where you start studying the Kree City. When I return to New York, I'll stop by the alien city first, and I'll drop off Agnes with you. Then you can be together again while you work on saving her life, _properly_ this time. San Juan is a beautiful place, Radcliffe, perfect for long lost lovers to reconnect once more." I press, and for a long time, the scientist remains completely still, just staring at the picture of the woman who he would base one of the most sophisticated androids this universe has ever seen on.

Finally, he looks up at me, and I politely pretend not to notice the slight wetness in his eyes.

"That sounds like a proper plan, alright. When do we leave?"

"I'm not too sure yet. There's a _lot_ that needs to be done within Othrys itself still, and then there are the various items and people within the US as well. But definitely before the year is out, I _swear_ Radcliffe. I at least want my hands on Pangborn and Skye first, and then we can go, alright?" I say, wary for any backlash from the scientist when he hears that I'll postpone the trip, but thankfully, Radcliffe just gives me a thoughtful slow nod, before he turns to leave my office as well.

"Just… don't make me wait too long, alright? I'll get on writing something for Skye in the meantime then."

Giving a nod, I bow down over my own screen, before I can hear Radcliffe clear his throat. Looking up in surprise, I can see the scientist stand somewhat uncomfortably in the doorway, before he fixes me with a surprisingly sincere look.

"Michael… thank you."

Giving him a genuine smile, I incline my head towards him.

"Don't mention it Holden."

And with a somewhat embarrassed nod, the scientist left my office, allowing the heavy door to silently fall closed behind him. Now alone again in what's basically the throne room of my castle, I look back towards the holographic screen in front of me, calling up the item I had dismissed when my guests had entered.

It was an encrypted mail, and consisted of only one line.

 _Cut off a head, you were right, we're coming by, need to talk – C &R_

Smiling, I lean back into my chair, waiting for my next guests of the day to arrive.

"Yes, that's it, Mrs. Carter. Bring me Zola and his secrets…"

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Many of Marvel's notable superheroes and villains are of Irish descent including, Captain America, Beast, Ice man , An incarnation of Ant-Man, Daredevil, Bullseye and Dum Dum Dugan.

 _As always, I want to extend my thanks to my wonderful Patrons, AndrewDC_MAC2, Thordur hrafn, Daniel Dorfman, ReaperScythe and Miu! I cannot thank you all enough for your support, it really does mean a lot to me! To all of my readers, if you wish the original novel I'm writing, then you can! For just 1 dollar, you can read my exclusive retelling of one of the most brutal crusades on European soil! Here's a little preview of the first chapter, which is already available over on Pa Treon :)_

Slumping in his chair with a defeated look upon his face, Jacques gave his friend a long look, before he let out a deep sigh.

"What does this all mean, Luc? You have warned me there is danger on all sides, even from our king, yet what is it that I and my family should truly fear?"

Luc seemed to struggle with his words for a long time, before he slowly rubbed his forehead, his eyes closed as he answered his friend's desperate question.

"King Phillipe's wife hails from the Champagne. As such, his influence here is amongst the strongest in all the lands under his control. If… no, _when_ he calls his people to arms, many here would not hesitate in following him, since they are sworn to both him and the family of his wife. Jacques… that includes me. I fear that someday… I shall be ordered to march upon Albi, and once I am, I will have no other option than to obey. I am sorry."


	28. Interlude 6 (By SIDoragon)

**AN:** Hey everyone! Once again, SIDoragon has written a pretty neat Interlude for the story, so I decided to make this one canon as well. Enjoy!

* * *

 **January 1st, 2012 10:30 AM IST (1:00 AM EST)**

Since his battle with the Abomination, Bruce had been moving from town to town and country to country, so as not to be tracked down. He knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. was looking for him. He knew Ross wanted to capture him, force the Other Guy out, then dissect it to study and replicate it, but fortunately that man had been pushed out of power long ago. That didn't mean whomever replaced him didn't have similar goals.

But Bruce was the only one who understood just how dangerous and unpredictable the monster's power was. He'd been living with it inside him for years now, and had spent most of his time and energy finding ways to keep the beast locked away or held at bay. For long stretches he was even successful. But occasionally someone would find him, track him down, and things would go terribly wrong.

He was becoming encouraged by the fact that he'd finally gotten the Other Guy under some semblance of control, and that he could bring some of himself into the creature. When he protected Betty and Ross from the Abomination, or even when he attacked the creature itself, he knew what he was doing. Knew what was at stake. And for all the damage, the injuries, the Other Guy caused – harm that Bruce felt responsible for each and every one of – he had managed to save scores more of other people who might have perished if the Abomination hadn't been stopped.

What Bruce didn't like was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s understanding of what the Other Guy was. He tried to explain, several times, that the monster inside was not the kind of thing that could ever be captured, controlled, but they disagreed. Keeping himself out of their hands not only protected Bruce, but also anyone who would get in the beast's way when he'd become enraged.

That was what forced him back to his wandering ways, just as he'd done for years when he was in Brazil; returning to the working in barely functional factories, or debasing himself as a beggar. Whenever he could do so, he helped whoever needed it along the way. That was how he had found himself in Calcutta now. Bruce was beginning to find that he was making for life for himself here, finding solace in helping people; and there really was no end to the number of people in need.

This kept him here longer than most places, but he honestly didn't mind. He enjoyed the heat, the noise, the chaos of it all. In an odd way he found it relaxing, and so did the Other Guy. For the first time in a long while, the monster was resting.

Or at least he had been until he turned on a television.

He stared into the burning embers that was supposed to be a man; a white hot tower of flame and purpose that was laying waste to poor, pitiful souls who had made some very unfortunate life choices. Bruce understood the local languages, how to speak it and read it, but it wasn't necessary; he could see the whole story playing out on the screen. A story of a man who was reached too far, rose too quickly, and was trying to be pulled back down into the pit he was climbing from. Things might have been different if the fools hadn't gone too far, if they hadn't killed those he was wanted to protect.

Bruce would have done the same.

And so would the Other Guy.

He could feel it rising up inside him. The monster within wanted out, wanted to fight, to lay waste to a creature that looked to be much the same as him, and only the barely understood knowledge that the two monsters were half a world apart from each other seemed to be holding him at bay. If the two were ever on the same continent…

"What a sight, huh?" a gentleman, older than Bruce and starting to grey, calmly stated as he sat down at Bruce's table. "It has been playing for days."

The little corner tea parlor wasn't a place Bruce managed to get to frequently, normally he would be on the opposite side of town doing his work already, but because of the new year he decided to treat himself. That was quickly turning out to be a poor idea.

"Yeah," he agreed, nodding. "First time I've seen it."

"I hope you don't mind, if I join you. I dislike sitting alone if I can help it." The older man smiled, a toothy grin that reached his shade covered eyes in genuine amusement. "I confess, I thought you might have seen it before. Something in your eyes made it seem…familiar."

In a way it was, Bruce agreed. Watching the flaming monster rip a car in two, stand on another and make it combust, backhanding a man who had the audacity to think they could stand against such a force of nature, it all brought back half-remembered things the Other Guy did.

Things that also usually ended up on the news, or at least youtube.

Bruce was shaken from his thoughts when he saw the creature breath fire like a dragon. "What in the world-"

"Yes, it was very scary when I first saw it." The older man followed his gaze, watching the tiny television playing atop the kindly older woman's counter. "Like seeing a tale come to life, a dragon in the flesh."

He chucked, "First the Stark makes a suit of armor, then a dragon rises to face him. Poetic, is it not?"

"Yeah," Bruce said slowly. "I'm not sure that was their intention."

The older man took a sip of his tea, resting the small porcelain cup atop its saucer. "No, I doubt it. They both thought themselves kings, but when you declare yourself to be above other men, challengers rise. Stark has faced down governments and fellow captains of industry. This one, this Hyperion, he starts his empire from a much smaller and fragile place than Stark, and yet aims to reach beyond the other. I wonder what drives him."

Bruce continued to stare at the screen, taking it all in. "Those with power usually seek more power."

'And yet you run from it. Hide from it. Does that make you better than them, or simply more cowardly?'

"Usually, yes." The older man took another sip, and set his empty cup down. "But not always. Some accept that they have such power, and do no more than what is expected of them. A teacher has power over their students, a policeman has power over all those who do not have a badge, and yet they do not seek more than they have."

"Different power, different scale," Bruce countered, smiling. "And a healthy amount of pragmatic fear. The teacher and policeman do not try to become Presidents or warlords. Knowing it or not, there is an understanding that somethings are still beyond their reach."

"And yet, men like Hyperion, Stark, and others are out there who are not so small. They do not have such limitations. Perhaps when you are able to physically shrug off what a normal man would find fatal, when you can ignore the might of armies, you take the first step down that road to more?"

The man may or may not have continued to speak, Bruce didn't know. Unbidden his pulse quickened and his breath grew heavy. The Other Guy wanted to meet this man, this Hyperion, and test him. To see what made the two of them so similar and so different. His eyes and ears were lost in the display of strength and power that the television served him. He drank it in like it was water, fed on it like mana, and before he realized it he was alone once more at his table.

He looked around, eyes darting around the small shop and the street outside, but the man was gone. Part of him was glad the distraction was gone, even as another part of him longed to return to those brief few moments where he was treated like a person and not just someone or something that could be of use to others.

With a reluctant sigh Banner stood, and walked out of the shop. He gave a final longing look at that screen, and those burning eyes that were so similar to the Other Guy, and went to work.

Maybe it was time for a change of scenery.

Maybe it was time he returned to the States?


	29. I'll be back

_**Chapter 19 – I'll be back**_

* * *

 **March 6th**

As it turned out, Peggy kept true to her word, arriving at the shores of North Brother Island in the dead of night, under the cover of darkness as all the lights on their small boat had been shut off, and the two supersoldiers made their way towards Othrys without the use of flashlights.

I knew they had arrived the moment Radcliffe's expansive sensor network picked up their boat when it approached the island, and despite their impressive stealth skills, I easily tracked their progress as they crawled through the underbrush. As such, when they arrived, they found the truly massive front gate of Othrys wide open, with no guards in sight.

Of course, this unexpected welcoming sight only served to make them more paranoid, and they spend a good fifteen minutes hiding in the same spot as they examined the looming shape of Othrys, seemingly unbothered by the pouring rain. However, I didn't exactly have the time to pander to a superspy's paranoia, so I did something a little bit mean.

I woke up Susan.

The T-Rex, which had grown to be about as large as a van in only three months, had her own paddock inside the thick walls of Othrys, but spent most of her day outdoors, terrifying the local bird populace whenever she wasn't pestering my people for attention and treats and the like.

This meant that she had made a nest for herself roughly in the middle of the island (seems instincts die hard, even in technically extinct animals) where she spent the night whenever the weather wasn't too bad, which considering her internal body temperature, was most nights.

Including tonight.

Using the sensor network that covered the island, I made an alarm go off right next to Susan's nest, waking the dinosaur from her sleep with a start. As the overgrown lizard looked around in confusion, a small trail of barely noticeable lights lit up, forming a trail from her nest towards Othrys, like the wisps of legend.

Susan, as intelligent as she was, had become used to this method of bringing her back to base in just a couple of times, and she usually went along with it because whenever she followed me or my people's commands, she got treats. So, seeing the familiar trail of soft lights, the firebreathing lizard got up and started making her way towards the fortress.

Here's a fun bit of trivia me and my people discovered:

Apparently, T-Rex could sneak.

They were pretty damn good at it too, if Susan was anything to go by.

All of this meant that two supersoldiers, lying in the dirt as they looked warily at the open gate of Othrys, failed to see the 3 ton dinosaur creeping up behind them (though in their defense, the pouring rain did a lot to mask the sound of Susan's approach). That is, until Steve picked up the faint sound of heavy breathing coming from above them, and looked up.

Straight into the grinning maw of a T-Rex with glowing fiery eyes looking back down at him.

In an impressive feat of speed and reflexes, Steve didn't utter a word, or even an embarrassing yelp, instead grabbing Peggy by the arm and bolting from their hiding place, hauling ass towards Othrys' gate in a dead sprint that would leave Usain Bolt befuddled.

Susan, always eager to play, gave a challenging roar, and started chasing the supersoldiers.

Here's another little bit of fun trivia for you:

The top speed of the original T-Rex is estimated at around 17 miles per hour, or 27 kph, as the rest of the world would say.

And _they_ didn't have superstrength.

Meaning that I was nearly laughing my head off as I saw Steve do an incredulous double take when he realized that the enormous lizard was easily keeping pace with him and Peggy, the dinosaur's smirk unmistakable.

In a matter of seconds, Steve and Peggy had burst through Othrys' open gate, emerging onto the open plaza between the front gate and the actual fortress itself, blinking in surprise as they saw me casually leaning against the wall, giving a jaunty little wave as they stared at me in shock.

Peggy quickly mastered herself when we heard Susan's footsteps rapidly approaching, reaching out to me and grabbing me by the arm, looking up at me with a look of determination and the very slightest hint of fear.

"Close the gate! Close it now!"

Whatever she expected, it wasn't me chuckling in response.

"Close it? Whatever for?"

Before Peggy could recover from her shock, Steve approached us, his trusty shield already on his arm and ready to throw.

"Because of the monster!" the supersoldier hurriedly explained as he took his place in front of Peggy, obviously intent on making his stand there.

"Monster? Susan isn't a monster, Mr. Rogers. She is a valued member of Titan Solutions, and I'll thank you for not using such degoratory terms in the future." I said imperiously as I walked around the two supersoldiers, walking at a leisurely pace towards the still open gate, right as Susan slid inside.

Her eyes literally lit up when they landed on the two interlopers, but before she could chase them some more, I raised my hand, lighting it up with Extremis, waving it back and forth a little.

It immediately got her attention, so I let my hand drop as I took a relaxed stance, staring the dinosaur straight in the eye.

"Thank you for bringing my guests to me Susan. Sorry for waking you, you may go back to bed now."

At my words, Susan slowly turns to look at the still on guard Peggy and Steve, before she turns to look at me again, and I can clearly see disappointment and annoyance rise within her.

Shooting me a look that clearly said ' _this_ is what you woke me up for? _Really_?', Susan turned on her heel, and began making her way back towards her nest, but not before making sure that the tip of her tail smacked me in the head.

Had I been a baseline human, that would've sent me flying, but Susan is careful to only pull such moves with people she knows that can take it, so I'm not _that_ mad at her.

Still, I intent on raising my firebreathing T-Rex right and proper, dammit!

"HEY! Don't think I'll forget that! That's no more treats tomorrow for you, young lady! And don't bother begging Melvin for any this time Susan, I'll tell him not to give you anything either!"

Looking over her shoulder towards me as she stalked off into the rain, she let out a dismissive chuff that could only be translated as 'whatever'. Sadly, she was right not to fear any retribution. I could tell Melvin a hundred times over not to give Susan any treats, with him earnestly nodding along every time I did, but all it took was Susan tapping him on the shoulder and he'd have one ready for her.

Turning with a sigh towards the gob smacked Peggy and Steve, I gave a shake of my head as I shrugged, walking past them towards my floor atop Othrys.

"Teenagers, am I right?" I say blithely as I walk past the supersoldiers, and it takes a full five seconds before I can hear their footsteps hurry to keep up with me.

* * *

It's a relatively short walk to my office (only about five minutes at my pace), and as I take a seat behind my massive desk, I can't quite contain my smile as I see the two absolutely soaked people in front of me warily sit down, eying my dry clothes with some envy.

With a body temperature like mine, soggy clothing is a thing of the past.

"Well then, Mrs. Carter. I am surprised to hear from you so soon. I trust my information proved valuable to you?" I say smoothly as I lean forwards on my desk with a smile.

Briefly, Peggy and Steve share a look, before the 90 year old soldier gave the 90 year old spy a subtle nod, clearly telling her to take the lead on this. Giving a slight nod in return, Peggy gave me a serious look, and the mood in my office turned a lot sharper.

"We didn't follow up on your intel until about a week ago. We went over it five times with the finest comb we could manage, and tried to verify as much as we could. We then planned a mission towards Camp Lehigh in such a way that not a single person on your list would be made aware of it. That took a depressingly long amount of time, to be honest."

"And the Camp?" I asked as I leaned back in my chair.

For a moment, Peggy falls silent, her lips pressed close together to form a stern line.

"Brought back a lot of memories. For the both of us." She finally said, and it was clear from her tone that she disliked talking about what came next.

"We entered the camp, found the bunker and inside it we found… Zola. He… I don't know _what_ the hell he did, but he managed to put himself inside a computer, just like you said. That's when things started to go wrong."

"Oh?" I asked, perfectly feigning shock as I sat up straighter in my chair, giving the spy an inquisitive look.

With an angry growl, she slammed the stick I gave her onto my desk with enough strength that, had it not been reinforced, she would probably have cracked it.

"Your stick _didn't_ work! We questioned him, and then when we heard enough, I tried to kill him, and it did _nothing_! He wasn't deleted! He called a _missile_ strike on us McCole!" Peggy ground out, her eyes blazing with anger, and as I look closer I can finally spot the subtle signs now that I can see them in the light of my office.

Their clothes are caked in mud, but now I can spot the rips and tears in the fabrics. Their faces are smudged, but only now are the slight wounds and faint scratches visibly underneath the dirt. Looking at Peggy's hand on my desk, I see that she's lost a fingernail, as well as the skin on her knuckles.

"Still. You are here, and since I doubt he was mobile when he called in the strike, I assume he is dead?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, to which Peggy finally lets up, giving a tired nod as she leans back into her own chair.

"We believe so, yes. Unless he escaped into the internet somehow, which is a possibility, considering he managed to remotely call in an airstrike, and Zola was never one to make the ultimate sacrifice. Very un-Hydra like in that aspect, to be honest." Peggy mused as she stared up at the soft light coming from the ceiling of my office, Steve sending her a concerned look, to which she responded with a genuine, if tired, smile.

Ignoring the by-play, I feel ice crashing through my veins at the spy's words. Zola's death had never quite sat right with me back in my old universe, but I had never been able to put my finger on just why. But this…

Sure, everything from what I remember from the MCU pointed towards Zola being truly dead, but as Killian and the Mandarin had shown, my knowledge wasn't absolute and infallible.

Zola in the internet… that was a truly terrifying possibility.

Which made my next Step that much more important: no matter what, Othrys must _never_ be hacked.

Leaning forwards, I reach over towards the stick that Peggy had slammed onto my desk, twirling it between my fingers as I try my hardest not to let any excitement I feel over the fact that I now have most (if not all) of Zola's tantalizing secrets in my hand, from showing on my face.

Since neither Peggy nor Steve suddenly tensed up when I picked up what they believe to be a faulty stick, my efforts were apparently effective.

"You say that it didn't work? Did you insert it the moment you reached Zola's remains?" I ask, as I pretend to be puzzled over my stick being 'faulty'.

"No, not immediately. Like I said, we interrogated Zola first. There were questions that needed answers before we killed him." Peggy said stiffly, and I can only imagine what a shock Zola's revelations must have been to her.

"I doubt that he was all that willing to give you the answers you sought. Am I correct in thinking that you used this stick as a threat in order to force him to cooperate?" I ask sternly as I glance over towards Steve, hoping that the earnest soldier will allow more of his emotions to show on his face than the now closed-off Peggy.

Still, I should've known better than expecting a man who spent his entire military career in the top branch of Special Forces to crack so easily, and Steve's face remains as impassive as Peggy's.

"Yes, we did. It was the only way that he would be willing to talk. Or at least, answer our questions: he was more than willing to talk, but it mostly involved the standard evil monologuing, and some vague threats about how the world shall in time be _cleansed_." Peggy said sourly, probably still haunted by the revelation that Hydra killed her close friend Howard Stark.

"Ah. Well that would do it. I imagine that, by showing your hand, you allowed Zola enough time to put up firewalls which would stall my program long enough for him to escape." I say gravely, as I place the stick on the desk with a practiced look of grave disappointment on my face.

Peggy gives a soft curse, while Steve merely frowns at my words. Leaning forwards in his chair, the supersoldier gives me a serious look, his face set in grim determination upon hearing that one of his greatest enemies might have escaped.

"Can you get anything from that device? We talked for a couple of minutes with Zola, and judging from the way he was boasting, Hydra's got something big coming. The stick didn't manage to kill him, but maybe while it was in there it might have picked something up? Something that we can use to track it down and stop it?" Steve asks, though he's clearly still a bit out of his depth in regards to modern-day electronics, or even 70's electronics for that matter.

Placing a carefully considering look on my face, I narrow my eyes as I gaze at the stick lying on the desk, before slowly giving a nod.

"Yes. Perhaps. I can make no guarantees I can pull something usable from it, Captain Rogers, but I'll do my best. The fact of the matter is, any information we may learn from it will be limited, simply because it was never designed for such a purpose."

It was _specifically_ designed for just that purpose, but I'm not going to tell them that. I'll see just what Hydra has got planned, and release bits and pieces to Steve and Peggy, essentially pointing them in the directions I want them to go.

"We understand. Anything you can glean from it, _anything_ at all, no matter how minor, might help us in the fight against Hydra. Whatever it is they got planned, if it's as big as Zola made it seem to be, then the entirety of the world is in danger." Peggy says as she leans forwards, fixing me with an earnest look.

"Of course. I'll do anything in my power to help in fighting the good fight alongside you, Mrs. Carter, and you as well, Captain Rogers. Still, as moving as your trust in me is, I cannot help but wonder about something." I say as I casually pocket the stick holding some of the most valuable data in the world.

"Which is?" Steve asks this time, and turning towards humanities' greatest soldier, I allow a small smile to grow on my face.

"Why come to me? Why not bring this information back to S.H.I.E.L.D.?" I muse out loud, and after a brief silence, it's Peggy who speaks up.

"Don't pretend to be ignorant about this McCole. You know about Zola, you know about Hydra's survival, and Nick told me that he saw you recognized him on the spot, just by his face alone. It's clear that you _somehow_ know more than you should, so don't try and push it by pretending not to know well over half of those names are S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel. With the Agency compromised, and with you clearly working against Hydra for _some_ reason, you were our next option. That being said, don't try to play coy with us ever again. We're willing to look past your unusual amounts of knowledge as long as we share a common enemy, and because of the enormous debt the both of us personally owe you, but don't do anything to make us reconsider that." Peggy says sternly, clearly unamused.

Making my eyes glow brightly in the dim lighting of my office, I fix the superspy in place as I gaze over towards her, my face neutral, but my voice hard.

"Careful there, Mrs. Carter. Those are some _very_ strong words, and I do not appreciate being spoken to like that in my own office. As you said, we are allies in this fight, there's no need for there to be any animosity between us. I admit pretending not to know about your quandary regarding S.H.I.E.L.D. being compromised was in poor taste, but I think we should look past that faux-pas, and instead focus on our true goal: stopping Hydra from burning down the world in order to rule its ashes." I say sternly, my rumbling voice easily filling the room.

After a short but tense pause, it's Steve that first speaks up, clearly trying to defuse the situation without setting either one of us off.

"I agree. We should be fighting Hydra, not accuse each other. Peggy?" he says, looking over at the silent woman, who's clearly still not entirely comfortable with trusting me as much as they were about to do (and with good reason, honestly).

Still, eventually she was pragmatic enough to realize that with my help, fighting Hydra would be far more doable than going at it solo, and with one final searching gaze, she acquiesces.

"Fine. I'll lay off as long as you promise to be more open with the knowledge you possess. Deal?" she says, holding her hand out towards me.

Without hesitation, I reach over and give it a firm shake, a determined look on my face.

"Deal." I say.

I have absolutely no intention of holding up my part of the deal, but there's no way for either of them to really verify that, so let them believe the lie I'm selling them.

"Now then, with that out of the way, allow me to ask if either of you require accommodations for the night? Othrys has room to spare, so it won't be much trouble." I say, but Steve denies my offer with a shake of his head.

"We can't stay, I'm afraid. There are still people within S.H.I.E.L.D. that need to be told the information we've uncovered, so that we can start recruiting allies. We'll be on our way, Mr. McCole." He says as he rises from his chair, me and Peggy following suit (I amusedly notice that Peggy seems somewhat disappointed at Steve denying them a warm room to share for tonight).

"Call me Michael, please. And I understand, no rest for the wicked unfortunately means that the good guys get depressingly little downtime as well." I say with a big smile as I open the vault door of my office with a wave from my hand.

"Simply follow the signs that will appear on the walls, they will lead you to the gates. From there, I trust you can make your way back towards where you moored your boat. I'll start decrypting the information on the stick immediately, I will contact you should I find anything of use." I say, extending my massive hand towards the door.

Peggy and Steve share one final look, before both give me a curt nod, and then they're gone, presumably on their way to inform Fury of their findings.

As the enormous door falls closed with barely a whisper of a sound, I lightly tap against my desk, which calls up two screens, one with Sterns' face on it, the other showing a picture of Radcliffe. After a few rings, the pictures are replaced by a live feed from the scientists themselves, who look at me with equally sleepy expressions on their faces.

"Michael? Wuh's happening?" Sterns mumbles, as he blinks a couple of times at the screen.

"Yeah. Do ya have any idea what time it is?" Radcliffe adds groggily.

"Sam, Holden, get dressed and meet me at the lab on sublevel four. I finally have Zola's secrets: it's time to initiate Operation: Respawn." I say with a grin, seeing their faces lit up as they're suddenly wide awake at my words, before I shut the screens off, hurriedly making my way down towards sublevel four myself.

Time to get to work.

* * *

 **March 9th**

While the three of us began parsing through the information the stick had managed to copy from Zola's databanks (which turned out to be practically everything) in search of how he managed to upload his consciousness, I still had other projects going on.

Which was why, at three in the afternoon, a screen suddenly appeared on one of the walls in the room where Sterns, Radcliffe and I were doing our research, showing Jessica's caller ID.

With a quick swipe of my hand, I took the call, Jessica's face appearing on the wall. Judging from her surroundings, she was on one of several boats used by Titan Solutions for travel to and from the Island.

"Hey Michael. I got Pangborn with me here. We're about fifteen minutes out, where do you want to meet in that big ass fortress of yours? And don't say your office again, do you have _any_ idea how exhausting it is to walk to the top of Othrys and back again every time you want to talk to one of us? It's almost like you're _overcompensating_ for something…" Jessica trailed off, raising a challenging eyebrow as she smirked.

Ignoring Sterns' and Radcliffe's snickers, I placed the enormous server I had been carrying gently onto the floor, before I walked over towards the wall, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"Ok, first off: you can literally _fly_ up to my office. Two: we have installed this radical new technology called _elevators_ , you may have heard about them? So just quit your bitching Jones, and bring Mr. Pangborn to the main hall, I'll meet you there. Oh, and FYI, I'm not compensating for anything, thank-you-very-much." I said, seeing Jessica grin in response right before I shut the screen off.

Turning on my heel, I saw Radcliffe and Sterns giving each other knowing looks from the corners of their eyes, smirks on their faces as they didn't even pretend to not have been listening.

"Oh shut it you."

* * *

Pangborn and Jessica were already sitting in my lobby (and I had a _proper_ lobby this time, instead of the cleared space with two couches and a sad potted plant, like in the old headquarters. I had simply taken Burstein aside, shown him a picture of the halls of Moria as I remembered it from the movies, and the scientist had gone wild.

Of course, my hall was much smaller in scale, but it still had proportions that could rival cathedrals, while still retaining a distinct sci-fi feel to it, due to the materials used to build it and the furniture that occupied it.

Pangborn, clearly impressed, was so busy with gawking at his surroundings that he barely noticed my approach until I was only a couple of feet away, whereas Jessica merely lifted her head just enough for her eyes to peak over the edge of the magazine she was reading.

"Mr. Pangborn! A pleasure to meet you! I'm so glad that you decided to accept my invitation." I called out, and the man somewhat nervously stood up, looking warily at my outstretched hand, before he visibly steeled himself and gave it a frim shake.

"Well, after I heard your offer of healing me, how I could I say no? To not have to continuously focus in order to merely live like everybody else…" the sorcerer said softly, gaining a compassionate nod from me.

"I understand, Mr. Pangborn. With the technology at my disposal, I see it as both a solemn duty as well as a privilege to help innocent people regain the quality of life that they deserve." I say gravely, masterfully ignoring Jessica's eyeroll at the bullshit I'm spewing.

"However, if I may be so bold to ask for something in return? I'm not going to ask for money or anything like that. I merely wish to learn magic, as you have." I say casually, enjoying Pangborn's shocked look as I reveal that I know that magic is indeed real.

"Magic? I'm sorry, what-"

"Perhaps _this_ will show you that there's no reason for you to hide your abilities, Mr. Pangborn." I interrupt him, summoning my Meteor Fist, the bright glow throwing his face in clear contrast.

" _You_ are the Iron Fist?!" Pangborn asks with a gasp as his eyes remain fixed on my flaming hand.

"You know about him?" I ask in surprise.

I mean, yeah sure, it wasn't exactly as if there were _that_ many different mystical hideaways in the world, so it made sense that they at least knew about each other's existence.

Still, to immediately recognize it on sight…

"The legendary protector of the Seven Capital Cities of Heaven, who plunged his fist into the heart of Shao Lao the Undying, the Last Dragon? Yes, I know about the Iron Fist. Despite the isolation of K'un-Lun, his legend is well known amongst the Masters of the Mystic Arts. It is said that Agamotto himself was taught there, before he decided to become Earth's protector, and founder of the Sanctums." Pangborn gushes as he hesitantly reaches out towards my hand.

Seeing no harm in allowing a Master Sorcerer to study a power that I don't fully understand yet, in the hope that he can give me some answers, I allow him to softly run his fingers over my glowing skin, my eyes widening with interest as I see a familiar orange glow dimly light up from Pangborn's own hand.

"What's happening?" I wonder out loud as I study the glow coming from the sorcerer, its color starkly reminding me of the effects of spells and the sling rings as they had been shown in the Dr. Strange movie.

"Your chi… your very _lifeforce_ … I have only ever felt this level of power from the highest ranking masters in Kamar-Taj, but never so concentrated… I can feel its healing energy press onto me just by touching you." Pangborn says with amazement, a grin coming to his face.

 _'Healing energy, huh? Now **that** sounds useful'_

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Pangborn. But I am unfortunately not the Immortal Iron Fist."

My words clearly shock Panborn, who looks at my flaming hand with wide eyes.

"But… this power… I have never heard of anyone managing to unlock their chi to such an extent. How did you come by this?" The sorcerer asks flabbergasted, and I allow a small smile to form on my face.

"I too, punched a dragon in the heart, awakening this power. I call it the Meteor Fist."

Hearing a snort come from beside us, I roll my eyes.

"Oh shut up Jessica, it's a cool name and I'm sticking with it." I say tiredly, getting an amused shrug from the woman as she keeps on reading her magazine.

"Whatever you say boss. They do always tell you to agree with crazies after all."

"Now listen here-"

"Ah, excuse me, but you said that you punched a dragon?" Pangborn cuts in, unfortunately sparing Jessica from my truly magnificent tirade.

Turning towards my guest, I give him a nod, which causes him to frown in confusion.

"But… _how_? Shao Lao is the Last Dragon on Earth… on _any_ Earth. If you did not defeat him in order to become the Immortal Iron Fist, then how-"

"Now _that's_ an interesting tale. One which I feel might be best told by someone else. If you'd please follow me to the lab of Dr. Hansen? She has had a hand in the creation of the dragon I defeated, and indeed in much of what you see here at Othrys today."

Getting a nod from the crippled sorcerer, I prepare to leave with him in tow, before I can hear Jessica get up from her lounge chair as well.

"Wait, I'm coming with. Hansen _still_ hasn't told me when my Extremis will be ready, and I've been patient long enough. I want to breathe fire too!"

"I pity New York. Truly, I do."

"Oh shut up, you're way worse than me."

* * *

It was a thankfully short trip towards Hansen's wing of Othrys, though Pangborn was looking relieved when I said we had arrived, clearly tired from the endless back-and-forth between Jessica and me (as grouchy as the both of us acted around each other, I quite enjoyed it whenever we did that, as it always allowed me to relax a bit from the manic rollercoaster my life had turned into for the past year).

Approaching the double automatic doors, I waved my hand next to the wall, and a red strip briefly blinked before turning green. With a hiss, the doors opened-

 _WHOOSH!_

-and a burst of flame slammed right into my face, with Pangborn yelping in surprise at the sudden light and heat.

For a moment, I think that Susan's been playing hide and seek again, before a woman's voice calls out through the thin veil of smoke.

"Sorry! Sorry! I'm really sorry about that, I was working with the squirting cucumber, and something must have set it off- oh, hi Michael." Came Hansen's voice, and as the dust clears, I can see the scientist sitting at a desk, on which several different species of plant are placed in glass boxes.

One of the boxes has shattered, and a flaming piece of greenery is lying on the floor, which Hansen fearlessly picks up with her bare hands, before securing it in a fireproof container for later study.

What? You though I wouldn't have the scientist who'd be primarily working with volatile energy and intense heat enhanced with Extremis the moment I could?

"Wait, hang on. There's a plant called the _squirting_ cucumber? Seriously?" came Jessica's voice, and I feel dread pool in my stomach at the clear amusement I can hear in her tone.

Hansen appears completely oblivious though, intent on clearing away the shards of glass, careful not to agitate the plant any further.

"Oh yes. Well, that's what it's commonly known as. It's _real_ name is Ecballium elaterium, and it's the only species in the genus of flowering plants in the family Cucurbitaceae, which-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, that's not important."

"Jessica." I say warily, but the woman gleefully ignores me.

"There's something far _more_ important."

"Jessica. Don't."

"Hey Michael. Guess what?"

"Jessica, I'm _asking_ you not to."

"You just got squirted on by a plant! Ha!"

"… Goddammit Jessica."

"What the hell are you doing with that _green thumb_ of yours, huh?"

"You done?"

"For now. Until I figure out more gardening puns."

"You're never going to give up on this, are you?"

"Nope! Sterns has the metal bones thing, and now _I_ have your tantalizing relationship with plants!"

"… fuck my life."

For a moment, I just stare tiredly at the grinning Jessica, until Pangborn speaks up behind my massive frame.

"Crazy. All of you are absolutely crazy."

* * *

 **March 12th**

Hansen had quickly explained that, since Extremis had clearly worked as intended on human subjects, she had gone back to her earlier research on plants, with some nebulous idea in mind regarding possible organic defenses for Othrys Island, and even farming and the like.

After carefully ignoring the unusually active looking Venus Flytraps that were swaying in their boxes (but not after firmly pointing Hansen towards the plaque I had hung in every lab in Othrys, detailing the rules of SCIENCE!) I asked Hansen to tell Pangborn what happened at New Year's.

After she told the sorcerer her story, and revealed to Jessica that the specialized Extremis would be ready in a few days (after which Jessica thankfully decided to leave. She had been searching gardening puns on her phone the whole time), Panborn and I started talking about magic, while Hansen prepared her measuring equipment and specialized monitoring rooms.

With Zola's procedure in mind, I was unfortunately forced to skip the basics (such as, what exactly the difference was between chi and magic) and instead jump immediately towards the subjects of souls and consciousness.

While clearly somewhat uncomfortably talking about such advanced magic with someone who had never even set foot inside one of the Sanctums, Pangborn nevertheless tried to answer my questions as best as he could, citing his rank as Master as giving him the authority to share his knowledge with whoever he wished.

As it turns out, yes the soul is very much real, and is tied to a vessel. In most cases, this vessel is the body, and once the body perishes, the soul is released, and travels to the afterlife, which may change depending on the life you lived (if you were Wakandan, than Bast would guide you to the Green Valley, if you were a vile enough person, you ended up in Hell instead).

Occasionally the soul may remain tethered to the Worldly Plane, and inhabit a new vessel. This new vessel may be another body, or it may be an item, in which case it is referred to as a phylactery. Both cases are _heavily_ frowned upon by everyone who isn't part of the very darkest of cults and it usually takes immense amounts of magical energy in order to fully bring back a soul from the Astral Plane to the Worldly Plane into a vessel it wasn't meant to inhabit, which is why rituals concerning these acts often require a sacrifice of some kind (hence why they are so frowned upon).

It was a testament to the Ancient One's enormous amount of power that she could use herself as an anchor to send someone's soul (or spirit, the two terms are pretty much interchangeable from what I gathered from Pangborn's lessons) from their vessel into the Astral Plane, and then return them as well, though she's helped by the fact that the soul returns to the original, healthy body after only a short time, meaning that the connection between vessel and soul is about as strong as it can possibly be, meaning that less power is required to unite the two.

With those two notions in mind (1: a vessel must be constructed for the soul to inhabit, the closer to the original body the better, and 2: magical energy is required to transport the soul into the vessel and bind the two together), I finally had the last requirements in order for Zola's procedure to be _fully_ successful, instead of merely creating an identical copy, which I think is what Zola had done.

Radcliffe and Sterns and I had worked tirelessly ever since Peggy had handed me the stick, just going over all of the intelligence it had managed to copy from Zola's databanks, before we finally managed to find the data on how he transferred his consciousness from his flesh and blood body to an electronic mainframe.

The process was horrendously complicated, but thankfully for us, Zola was a perfectionist: even after the procedure had worked, he had not stopped going over the original process, and in the past forty years had gradually added small changes and improvements, which should allow us to pull off Operation: Respawn, especially when taking Radcliffe's and Sterns' genius into account, under the supervision of Pangborn.

I hadn't asked Dr. Hansen for this because, even though she was heavily involved with the magical research Titan Solutions was doing she was still fairly new, meaning that I didn't fully trust her for this, and because she had been Brain Boosted so recently, it hadn't allowed her yet to fully grow in fields outside of her specialization.

Sterns had gone from a geneticist to an omnidisciplinary scientist because of his original gamma mutation granting him unparalleled raw genius, but the other scientists, while admittedly reaching amazing levels in their original fields, were much slower to branch out as much as he had.

They did it far easier than most, and even after only a few months, Hansen was already at least competent even in fields widely outside of her own expertise, but they never quite managed to reach the same level of genius as they did in their original field.

It's why I hadn't asked Burstein for this. With the Brain Booster, the man was not only one of the premier geneticists on the planet (if it weren't for Sterns and Hansen, he would hold the top spot), but as his invention of ferrocrete proved, he was also becoming an accomplished chemist and engineer.

And still his skills paled when compared to Radcliffe's and Sterns' when it came to programming and the like. I was fairly certain that in that regard Radcliffe would've outshone most of my Think Tank even before he was Brain Boosted himself.

Despite his recent addition to my company, I had no choice but to include Pangborn in the process as well. I was the only person he taught magic to (though he allowed Hansen to monitor my attempts for her research) meaning that he was the only one with the skill necessary for the job. Still, curing his body and hiring him to consult at Titan Solutions for a _very_ generous fee meant that I could count on at least enough loyalty from him to not sabotage the procedure.

I hope.

I was there mostly because I my power would be necessary for the successful completion of the process and because I was the leader of the project, though admittedly I was somewhat out of my depth regarding the scientific mumbo-jumbo that Sterns and Radcliffe were spouting based on Zola's notes (though to be honest, I was something out of my depth regarding the _magical_ mumbo-jumbo as well). I was smart, easily smarter than at _least_ 98% of the total population in fact (and that was a _very_ conservative estimate, considering that still left roughly 140 million people smarter than me), but I was nowhere near on the same level that my superscientists operated at.

Still, I was clever enough to at least comprehend how Zola had gone about cheating death, or at least the general basics of it.

The first step was just transfer of information. In a move that eerily reminded me of the Memory Halls shown in Ready Player One, which I saw only a month before I switched universes, Zola had digitally stored every single aspect of his life that he could remember, which basically amounted to just about everything, with exception of his earliest childhood and some surprisingly wild years in college.

Once the foundation had been laid, he had written thousands of programs, which were designed to mimic his behavior based on the available data (his extensive memoires), mainly dealing with situational responses. They could be fairly simple (how would he react to someone saying 'hello') to ridiculously complex algorithms (how would he _feel_ about that someone saying 'hello', factoring in the weather, that person's ethnic background, the day he had had so far, the location he was in, the people he was with, and what he had for breakfast that morning).

After basically creating a copy of himself in programs and algorithms, came the truly genius part of Zola's masterplan. As I said before, Zola is a perfectionist; he wouldn't be content with himself dying and a mere copy surviving, a program _pretending_ to be him. It had to _be_ him. So he recreated his brain. An entire military bunker, filled from wall to wall, and floor to bottom, representing the layout of his very _brain_ , recreating it down to individual neural clusters.

And after the foundations had been put in place, the software created and the infrastructure laid down, Zola, in his final stages of life, had holed himself away after telling everyone he was terminally ill, hooked himself up to an advanced EEG, and recorded his brain activity during every moment of every day, which was flawlessly copied and integrated in the earlier created software, which was basically a primitive form of an AI user interface.

And so, on April 23rd 1972, Arnim Zola died in his bed… and on April 23rd 1972, Arnim Zola was born, in digitized form.

Thankfully, it seemed that my fear of Zola escaping into the internet was at least somewhat unlikely to come true. Yes, Zola had access to wireless (that's how he managed to call in the airstrike) but those databanks inside the bunker were his actual brains. Just digitizing all of it and sending it out onto the internet as a data package was just as likely to kill him as that missile would've, since there would be no 'brain' to form the infrastructure for all that data to actually recreate him. At most, he managed to unleash a host of smaller programs onto the internet, which, while still capable of doing enormous amounts of damage, was less of a concern than Zola going Ultron on all of us.

Still, I couldn't bring myself to be worried: with Zola's secret, I now had a proven method of cheating death, and that knowledge caused me to walk around all day long with an enormously smug grin on my face.

Of course, there were risks involved, and not just with the procedure failing because of one of a million things potentially going wrong. No, there were risks involved with the procedure _succeeding_ , the most pressing one being: what would happen to my soul?

Which is why I wasn't going to perform the procedure on _myself_.

"Sam? Talk to me, how far along are we?" I ask my friend as we stand amidst a chaos of wires, coolants, databanks, and more, all connected to what could be mistaken for a shrine in the middle of the enormous room, where Radcliffe is bent over something that was sitting on the thick pedestal, which was about the size of my torso and had two large indentations at its sides.

The object Radcliffe was working on so intently appeared almost as if one of the artificial brains in Ex Machina just up and switched universes as I had.

Now _there's_ a scary thought.

Pangborn was also intently studying the pedestal, which was covered in runes, his hands lighting up with magical arrays as he double checked the mystical side of things. Healing his injury meant that he was no longer constantly focusing his magical energy through his body (something similar, but also vastly different, to the way people enhanced themselves with chi), which allowed him to actually put his large amount of magical knowledge to practical use.

During the process, he would be monitoring the soul of the subject, as well as keep an eye on my chi, in order to see whether or not the soul would fully transfer from its original body to its new vessel, helping it along if needed.

Sterns himself is typing away on a frankly gigantic computer, his eyes fervently scanning a waterfall of code, which passes too fast for even me to make any sense out of it.

"We have all but finished creating the infrastructure for the 'brain'. Because of Zola's notes and the much higher tech level we have access to, not only will it take up less space than his brain did, it will be far more powerful. Instead of roughly copying the neuronclusters, we have managed to map every single neuron instead, recreating the brain down to the tiniest detail. This should make the transfer go much more smoothly, and allow for more of the original personality to be retained. As such, we probably don't need to upload raw data first, like Zola did with all he could remember from his life in order to run his algorithms, but instead we can copy entire memories." Sterns absent-mindedly explained to me in a torrent of words, talking faster and faster the more exited he got.

"Did you know that the effectsoftheBrainBoosterallowfor-" Sterns started to rattle off as he turned towards me with an exited grin on his face, until I gently placed the tips of my fingers on top of his giant head, and smoothly turned him back around so he was facing the screen again.

"Focus Sterns. I know you're nervous, I am too. But this _has_ to go right, so we can't afford ourselves to be distracted. Alright?" I said easily, and after taking a few calming breaths, Sterns nodded in agreement.

"Alright. Like I said, the groundwork has already been laid. All that's left now is inserting the biological brain into the modified CAT-scan/EEG device we've built so that the artificial brain can start copying the neural activity of the original. During the copying, you shall infuse the pedestal with your chi, activating it as a spiritual anchor with your lifeforce, allowing the soul to transfer as well. After that, all that's left is to wait for the transfer to be complete, and the artificial brain to 'boot up'." The egghead explained, gaining an understanding nod from me.

"So he's ready to be removed from cryo then?" I asked, and for a moment Sterns hesitates.

It's clear that he wants to run more tests, to be absolutely _sure_ the procedure will work, but he knows that it won't really add anything to the chance of it succeeding. We have done the theoretical research for this for over three months, we've been building this room ever since construction for Othrys began, even before we got confirmation on how Zola did it, just cramming it full with stuff we thought we might need, we've been decrypting and recreating Zola's methods for the past _five days_ non-stop, putting all our other projects on hold.

During those days the only contact any of us had had with the outside world was me telephonically giving Harper the go ahead to start closing in on Kilgrave, and allowing Jessica to go with him after she had gained her Extremis and wanted to take it out for a test ride (I'd much rather have Kilgrave as her training dummy than me, since no one knew how strong she now was. Besides, seeing a scumbag like Kilgrave in action would automatically paint me in a good light, strengthening her loyalty to me).

We're as ready as we'll ever be.

"Right. Get him out of cryo. Let's start Operation: Respawn." Sterns eventually says with a nod, and with those words I stalk off towards the back of the enormous room, where a huge sarcophagus is resting against the wall, which is connected to a host of thick tubes, and covered in a slight coating of frost.

Opening the smooth metallic grey lid, a hissing noise ringing out through the room as billowing vapor rolls down the sides and over my legs, I briefly look at the body inside, before I gently pick it up and place it on a special rune-encrusted gurney placed beside it, closing the lid we attached to it, though it only goes across the body, leaving the frozen head out in the open..

I then wheel the gurney towards the sarcophagus, where Radcliffe is apparently finished with the artificial brain, since he steps away as I approach, instead grabbing a helmet that looks somewhat like Cerebro off a stand next to the huge pedestal.

Pangborn steps up, one arm outstretched to the short pillar with a magical field springing to life at his fingertips, the other arm repeating the process as he aims it towards the body, monitoring the spiritual/magical state of both.

As I place the futuristic looking gurney next to the pedestal, the artificial brain on top of it is slowly lowered inside, before a hatch slams shut above it, locking the brain inside. Pressing a button on the side of the gurney, heat starts to come from the lid and the gurney itself, as Radcliffe places Cerebro's twin on the frozen head.

"Thawing has begun, scanning starting now. Once circulation picks up again, sedatives will be administered in order to keep the subject unconscious. Brainwaves expected to return in under five minutes, though subject will not regain consciousness at any time until the procedure has been completed. Procedure will be regarded as completed until no more new data is copied into the artificial brain, meaning a full transfer has occurred, or until the biological body… expires." Sterns says out loud, the room recording each and every word, though Radcliffe and I don't pretend to notice the hitch in his speech when he mentions the subject dying.

Keeping an eye on the monitors, which show all of the subject's vitals, I press yet another button when I see that there's an extremely faint heartbeat, administering the carefully measured dose of sedatives. The heartbeat strengthens, but not by much, remaining worryingly weak.

"Data transfer has begun." Radcliffe calls out to Sterns, who calmly repeats the words, the room recording them as he does.

With that done, I walk over towards the pedestal, placing my enormous hands on the indentations on the sides, before I light them up with chi. Manipulating my chi so that my Meteor Fist also appeared in my other hand had been extremely hard, and had required me to spend days back to back doing nothing but sit in a lotus position and try to master the energy inside me.

Even after all that, I hadn't been fully successful. I could call up my chi in my other hand, but it wasn't the same as my Meteor Fist, lacking that extra something that punching Alexandragon in the heart had done to my right fist. Still, it was sufficient enough to funnel my life energy into the pedestal, which lit up like a golden Christmas tree.

Glancing at Pangborn, I saw the sorcerer focus on the feed he was getting from the pedestal, before he gave me a nod.

"Keep it at that level, Mr. McCole."

Giving a nod in return, I focus inwards again, and keep pumping the same amount of chi into the pedestal.

"Infusion of artificial phylactery with chi has begun." Sterns dutifully called out.

However, after a few minutes of this, I feel that my body can keep this up for quite a while, even without my conscious input, so I look up at the scientists in the room.

"So what now?" I ask, even as I keep channeling my chi.

For a moment, the scientists share a look, before Radcliffe turns to me with a resigned expression on his face.

"Now? Now we wait."

And after they made seats from hardlight, projected from the various strips in the walls (me and Pangborn were forced to remain standing), we settled in and did just that, all of us keeping our eyes glued to the various screens that showed the slow activity of the original brain, and the copying done by the artificial brain.

Pangborn occasionally gave us updates on the spiritual side of things, saying that the life energy I was pumping into the pedestal and the brain inside it was turning it into a suitable phylactery, and that the soul, which was slowly starting to leave its failing vessel, was naturally being drawn towards it, recognizing the copied brainwaves and rebuilt brain as something both familiar and compatible.

All of us barely remembered to breath (I actually stopped breathing entirely. After ten minutes Sterns harshly elbowed me in the side, explaining that I was freaking him out when I turned to glare at him) as we expected the procedure to halt at any moment, the original body dying before all of his brain activity was copied, meaning that we'd lose him, or that the soul instead just departed to the Astral Plane.

But after more than an hour (during which I definitely began to feel my power being heavily taxed, a hollow feeling pain slowly growing inside my chest), we finally got the message that made us give roaring (if exhausted) cheers, as Pangborn said that the soul had left the body and had almost immediately occupied its new vessel, while the screen detailing the information of the artificial brain stated that no more new data was being copied, whereas the original body was still alive, if extremely weak.

It would probably not survive to see the night, but now that the procedure had been successfully completed, that wasn't exactly a problem anymore. The four of us quickly crowded around the pedestal, which was now housing a fully copied, artificially made human brain inhabited by a soul, waiting with baited breath for it to finish essentially booting up.

Compared to the nerve-wracking hour long wait, this was completed in mere minutes, after which various lights and lines on the pedestal started glowing brightly, showing that the brain inside had woken up, the runes on it shining with a strong yellow-golden light. The hologram on top of the thick pedestal suddenly lit up, and in an explosion of light, a figure was projected from it, all of us looking up at it in awe-

…

…

"Phineas. Why did you photoshop your head on top of Kevin Sorbo's body?"

"What? I _said_ I was really into Xena when I was younger, okay? Just let me have this!"

Grinning from ear to ear, I look up at the holographic representation of Phineas Mason, projected from the pedestal that now holds an artificial brain housing his consciousness and soul.

"Well, I suppose that _does_ settle the question on whether it's actually you or just a copy. It's good to have you back, Phineas." Sterns says warmly, and Mason's hologram actually turns in order to face him, despite the fact that the pedestal is covered in sensors on all sides.

"Oh hi Sam. Yeah, it's good to be back. I admit, not exactly what I expected, but this is pretty cool." Phineas' hologram says excitedly, giving a little wave when he spots his fellow scientist.

"Indeed it is. You don't know me, but I'm Dr. Holden Radcliffe. I helped transfer your consciousness from your body to your artificial brain." Radcliffe says with an enormous grin, and I can tell that the transhumanist is just relishing saying that.

"Oh hey dude. Nice to meet you." Phineas says as his hologram turns to face the other scientist, his head still placed on top of Hercules' body.

"And I am Jonathan Pangborn. I am a Master of the Mystic Arts, and I used my magic to instruct your boss on how to transfer your soul from your original body to your spiritually attuned phylactery, as I monitored the procedure." Pangborn said with a tired smile, and instead of the slightest hint of skepticism, Phineas leaned towards him with wide, inquisitive eyes, a massive grin on his face.

"You're a magician?! That's, like, so cool dude!"

Bringing the conversation to more urgent matters, I spoke up.

"Phineas. I know that this is a weird question, but how are you feeling? Are there any gaps in your memory, or do you have trouble interpreting the new sensory feedback? If you want, we can shut the sensors off until there's only two pointing in a single direction, like eyes-" I begin, only to be cut off by Phineas as he stops his wondering examination of the room, his eyes falling on his original body.

"Nah, it's okay. This all feels amazingly natural, so don't worry about it. Is that…?"

"Yes. It's your body. At the moment, it's alive, but nobody's home." I gently try to explain, seeing that Phineas cannot take his eyes off it (holographically speaking, that is).

"What happened? I remember an attack… Susan saved me… you found me…" Phineas softly wonders, and judging by the frantic blinking of the lights on the pedestal, he's searching his databanks for answers.

"You were dying, Phineas. You lost your leg, and almost all of your blood. You had massive trauma all over your skeleton, a fractured skull, a punctured lung, and about half of your vital organs had already shut down. I couldn't give you Extremis, because you were too weak to survive the changes, and I couldn't wait for you to get a bit better because you were… you were already dying in my arms, Phineas. So I did whatever I could to stabilize you, while I had every single person working for TS create a cryochamber under Burstein's supervision as fast as we could. Once Sterns and Radcliffe got back, we upgraded the chamber, but at that point, keeping you frozen was the only way to keep you from dying. We spent every moment we could spare since then preparing to transfer your consciousness and even your soul to an artificial brain, because there was no way of saving your body." I explain slowly and softly, and as I do, I can see that the lights on the pedestal slow their blinking as Phineas takes it all in.

"So… my body… it's…?" the man trails off in a hesitant voice, gesturing weakly towards where his biological body is still resting on the gurney.

"I'm sorry Phineas. It's unlikely it'll survive for another two hours, three at best." Sterns softly says, and Phineas' hologram slowly sinks to its knees as its 'eyes' remain fixed on the dying body in front of him.

"Why? Why did you bring me back? Like this?" Phineas slowly asks, and after a short pause, I speak up.

"Because there was no other way, Phineas. You were too weak to survive Extremis, you were too weak to survive _any_ serum we had that might have dealt with the damage to the point that you could take Extremis. It had to be done like this."

"So now I'm trapped here, huh? Not cool, dude. I mean, like, I get why you did it, and being an AI brain is pretty cool, but this… this is…" Phineas trails off again, his 'eyes' shifting towards one of the screens, which shows the heartbeat of the body steadily slowing.

All of us remain silent, until after a few more weak beats, the line goes flat.

Phineas' body has died. All that remains of him, is his consciousness stored in a piece of silicone gel, surrounded by and interacting through extremely advanced electronics.

For a moment, none of us react as we stare at the corpse in front of the pedestal, its pervious inhabitant gazing at it with a morose look on its digitized avatar, the only thing about him that now appears human.

Slowly I reach out, my massive hand coming to a rest on top of the squat pillar. Taking into account Zola's notes on sensory deprivation and the shock it had brought with it when he had awakened, we made sure to even install pressure sensors in the pedestal, giving Phineas a rudimentary sense of touch.

His hologram didn't so much as twitch, while the various lights on the pedestal didn't change the rhythm in which they were blinking, showing that the digitized scientist barely even acknowledged I was there, but still I forged on.

"You're not going to be trapped, Phineas. We built you a brain, what made you think we're going to stop there? We're going to build you a body, hell, we'll build you _bodies_ , if that's what you want! If you promise to behave, we'll even hook you up to the internet! And there's one other, _very_ important thing I want to ask you." I say proudly, and seeing Phineas' face turn towards me, I give him a reassuring grin.

"Phineas Mason. How would you like to become the Gatekeeper of Othrys?"

For a moment, the room falls silent, Radcliffe and Sterns both looking at Phineas with eager grins on their faces, before Phineas' voice once more comes from the speakers in the pedestal.

"You want me to stand outside the gates of what-now?"

* * *

 **AN:** I really should promising things about when or what I'm going to write, since I seem pathologically incapable of fulfilling those promises. I had originally meant to take this chapter all the way to May, so that the next chapter can immediately deal with the invasion. However, I just thought that this was the perfect moment to cut the chapter off, so next chapter we'll get to May instead, meaning that we'll have to wait one chapter more until the Invasion happens. Yeah, sorry 'bout that. But Mason's back! Yay?

 **AN2:** So, rewrite is up, now including Pangborn and magic so that there can be no doubt that it is, in fact, Phineas that was revived, and not just a copy. I felt that it was moving a bit fast, but in all fairness, Pangborn was just walking around New York, without protection and not trying to hide. There's no reason that Jessica cannot find the man in a few days, especially if she's Brain Boosted. Also, on a more meta note, this story is now 200k. I think I can get away now with kicking things into gear a bit more, especially since we are _still_ not even at Avengers at this point. As for Hansen and her plants, credit goes to reader vabbie, for giving me the idea in the first place.

 **Fun Fact:** Lionsgate nearly made a Black Widow film in 2004. They had planned to give the character superpowers from an experimental suit and she would have a secret identity as a gardener.

 _As I do at the end of every chapter, I want to extend my thanks to my amazing Patrons, AndrewDC_MAC2, Thordur hrafn, Daniel Dorfman, ReaperScythe and Miu! I cannot thank you all enough for your continued support, it really does mean a lot to me! The same of course goes to the rest of my readers as well, thanks so much for all the comments and reviews!_


	30. Preparation

_**Preparation**_

* * *

 **March 12th**

After spending the rest of the day explaining to Phineas what his duties as the Gatekeeper of Othrys entailed (mainly monitoring the island and managing the base's defenses, essentially being my version of JARVIS but with free will and the freedom to pursue his own projects and interests) I left Radcliffe with the uploaded consciousness in order to figure out future projects on which they could collaborate, and started delegating again.

Sterns I put on finishing the scanner for Ego's Seed, since he had put a stop on developing that once we had begun Operation: Respawn. It shouldn't take him much longer, so after he finished that he could return to his bigger project of the Pym Particles. Cross had already made quite a headway in using the particles to alter the size of non-biological matter, and Sterns had cracked it to the point that simple biomatter could be shrunk as well. All that was left was making sure it worked on sentient beings as well, without the insanity-drawback.

I immediately wanted to jump into learning magic again, but Pangborn was dead on his feet from the exhaustion of continuously channeling the Mystic Arts for an hour. So instead, I sent him off to bed, with orders to meet me in the morning in Hansen's labs for testing.

As I stood there in the hallway of sublevel four, realizing that most of my base had either gone to sleep or were deep into their own projects, I decided that there wasn't much for me to do at the moment and I ended up making my way towards my office instead. I didn't really have a plan in mind, but I thought it'd be nice to relax for just a little while in my luxurious chair as I looked out over my island through the full-length windows (I did had some vague idea's on translating the Evil Overlord List into a long-dead language and then writing it on some ancient looking clay tablets which I could then frame on my wall, just for the hell of it).

Unfortunately, my plans for a peaceful evening were dashed the moment I set foot inside the enormous office.

"Hello Michael. Would you care for some tea?"

My entire body tensed up as I gazed at the person who was leisurely sitting behind my massive desk, seemingly without a care in the world, as if breaching the defenses of the most fortified base in the world was no big deal.

"Ancient One."

The Sorcerer's mouth quirked just the tiniest bit at my wary tone, and it wasn't too difficult to see why. Engulfed as she was in my enormous chair (I could see that her feet barely even touched the ground), dressed in comfortable clothing dyed in soft pastel colors, the lithe woman must have appeared completely harmless compared to my looming form in the doorway.

And yet, nothing was further from the truth.

Bullets did not harm me. Blades did not cut me. Punches from the some of the strongest beings on the planet did not faze me for long.

But _magic_?

Other than my extremely potent chi, my mystical skills were very much still in their fledgling state, meaning any magical barriers that I could throw up (while certainly more powerful than a novice like me should be able to create) might as well have been made of rags for all that it would halt the Ancient One in her tracks.

For the past 700 years, she has been a deterrent to _interdimensional horrors_ , for crying out loud!

Maybe I could take her. _Maybe_. My strength, combined with my speed, meant that I was a nightmare to face in close quarters, and compared to me, the Ancient One's body was just as squishy as your run of the mill mortal. One good hit was all it would take to finish the fight.

Unfortunately, the same went for her.

"I am not here to seek conflict with you, Michael." The Ancient One said, clearly picking up on my wariness.

"Then why are you here?" I replied slowly, as I began making my way towards her.

"Like I said, to drink tea. Hopefully, we can have a civil conversation as we enjoy our drinks." The Ancient One explained with a small smile, but her eyes kept on staring unwaveringly into my own, and I caught on to the hidden message in her words.

This wasn't a request.

Still, I might be wary of one of the very few beings on the planet that posed a legitimate threat to me, but I wasn't just going to bow down to her demands without at least some semblance of a fight.

Taking a seat in front of my own desk, I kept my body tense while my eyes were blazing embers, as I raised an eyebrow at her words.

"You breach some of the mightiest defenses on the planet, and break into my inner sanctum, all for a cup of tea?"

"Your technological mastery is certainly impressive, Michael, but I think we are both aware that such things do not matter as much to me as they would to others. And I am afraid that Jonathan's rudimentary warding is far from _mighty_. He has earned his title as Master of the Mystic Arts, true, but that was given to him due to his feat of extreme mastery of self, and the impressive knowledge he collected during his stay in Kamar-Taj. A magical powerhouse, however, he is not." The Sorcerer replied, and though she didn't raise her voice, her tone became just the slightest hint sharper.

"You object to his role within Othrys then? Is that why you are here?" I guessed as I leaned slightly back in my chair, giving myself a bit more room to move in should we come to blows.

"Some would call taking the names of the Titans for yourself as hubris, and were it anybody else, I would be inclined to agree. But with you… I cannot help but wonder…" the Ancient One mused, not even trying to mask the fact that she completely ignored my question about her feelings on Pangborn working for me.

"Wonder what?" I asked wearily, my body tensing even further when the Master of Kamar-Taj fixed me with a heavy look.

It seemed we were past pleasantries then.

"I am definitely looking at a living body that was once a human, but you do not have the _soul_ of a mere mortal, reaching for a higher power. You aren't a demigod or even a full god. I have met their like, and they were both more and less powerful than you are. Your body is chained by mortality, but your soul is beyond such simple notions, beyond anything I have ever encountered. It almost makes me wonder… just how accurate is the name Hyperion?" the Ancient One asks in a heavy tone, and I only now notice something that should've put me on my guard from the moment I stepped into the room.

The island is quiet.

Too quiet.

Despite the construction of Othrys and Susan's hobbies, the Island was still home to enormous flocks of birds (thankfully the walls of my base were treated with a superhydrophobic coating, meaning that my HQ wasn't covered in birdshit) which provided a near-constant background noise.

And it was gone the moment I stepped into my office.

Reaching out with my senses (honed through manipulating my chi and lessons from Pangborn) I felt a… _twist_ behind me, right in front of the door, almost like a static waterfall made of space and fractals.

Focusing my senses to the woman in front of me, I could feel that she had been channeling energy the whole time, though my skills weren't advanced enough to tell just which spell she was preparing for, or even if she was currently maintaining it.

Probably a barrier of sorts, which explained why she was cocky enough to confront me where I could see her (meaning she was where I could _reach_ her as well).

"You made me enter the Mirror Dimension when I walked into my office, using yourself as a distraction so I wouldn't notice, all the while channeling your magic in preparation of an attack, either by you or me." I calmly stated (inwardly I was freaking out though. I didn't even know you could do that!), carefully watching the Ancient One's expression.

Other than a slight narrowing of the eyes, she didn't give any of her thoughts away.

"It seems Jonathan is quite accomplished as a teacher. It would've been interesting to see just what he could have become had he chosen to remain in Kamar-Taj to complete his Mastery."

Getting tired of her non-answers, I slowly straightened from my chair, clenching my fist beside me, though I didn't channel my Meteor Fist yet. I did heat myself up with Extremis though, a glow coming from my burning eyes as my veins lit up in stark contrast in the dimness of the room.

"So you _do_ wish to fight me. Why else bring me to where you are strongest, and we cannot hurt any innocents?"

The Ancient One herself rose as well, and I could both see and feel the magical arrays that surrounded her hands, though she kept them loose at her sides.

"I have no _wish_ to fight anyone. I only seek to _protect_. Either the world from you, or you from yourself. Which is why I wished to talk to you over tea. If you proved to be merely a human possessed by some being of higher power, then I might have been able to save you. But if you turned out to be an actual Titan of old, reborn into the world somehow, then I would have no choice but to strike you down. Such a battle could raze a city, hence why I only confronted you inside the Mirror Realm." The Sorcerer Supreme explained in a soft voice, but I could tell she was ready for a fight.

For a moment, I merely looked at the Ancient One in surprise as I tried to comprehend her statement.

"You think I'm either possessed by, or actually am, a Titan? And you think you're powerful enough to take one on in a fight, all on your own?"

"Who said she was alone?"

I can feel a rippling sensation behind me, and turning to glance over my shoulder I can see Mordo and Kaecillius, both brandishing weapons at me and both in a combative stance, clearly ready to spring to their Master's defense at a moment's notice, having hidden themselves with magic during the entire time I had been talking to the Ancient One.

' _Shit. I_ _ **really**_ _need to up my abilities in the Mystic Arts if I don't want to be taken off guard like that again.'_

"None are without flaws, Michael. Not even me. _But_ , hubris is not one of mine." The Ancient One speaks up, and I'm a bit relieved to see that her hands are still at her side, with Kaecillius and Mordo not moving an inch as well.

"I admit that my acts on this world have not all been without evil. But a kill-team consisting of the Sorcerer Supreme and the two strongest Masters in Kamar-Taj? That seems excessive to me." I slowly state as I turn so that I have both Masters and the Ancient One in my field of vision (though I can't help my eyes from occasionally flicking towards Kaecillius. Even though I know that his betrayal is still a few years off, it's still jarring to see him work together with the Ancient One like this).

"The Titans shaped the world to their whims, without regard for other life, or even other gods. Even a nascent one could wreak horrible damage. Which is why I only asked my most trusted colleagues to accompany me, and why I face you in this Realm, where I too am fueled by an ancient power." The Sorcerer Supreme explained, and I couldn't quite contain my gasp of shock when I felt her channeling something truly _powerful_ and _alien_ , a dark mark burning on her forehead.

"But… no, this isn't… you aren't supposed to…" I softly whisper in shock, glancing between the Ancient One and Mordo and Kaecillius.

The Sorcerer Supreme's connection to Dormammu was a secret she kept for _centuries_ , and revealing that connection had caused both Masters to turn evil. So why the hell was she showing it so openly?

And why the hell didn't they look surprised?!

"Ah, now that is interesting. I'm not _supposed to_ , am I? Just what are you, Michael McCole, that the events of this world are like a play to you, that causes you to be a blank in time, without past or present or future, that allows your soul to feel heavier than the infinity of the cosmos?" the Ancient One asks softly, and now her hands are in a stance as well, though no spells are flying.

Yet.

Glaring at the Ancient One, I can't help but feel some grudging respect for the woman who is only seconds away from trying to bash my skull in with eldritch energies. Clearly, my weird-ass origins have been messing with her foresight, so she took a chance and decided to throw her own playbook out the window, thus trying to counter my own foresight as well.

Still, how she convinced Mordo and Kaecillius to still follow her, I haven't gotten the faintest idea.

"I am… complicated." I say slowly, trying to get a feel for just how little I need to reveal that I can get away with.

"You are a being outside of time and space, and not originally from this dimension." Mordo cuts in immediately.

Huh. Apparently I'll need to reveal more than just a little.

Dammit.

"You are correct. I am not from this dimension, or any other dimension that you may have heard of."

"How did you come to be here? What means did you use to breach the barrier between realms?" the Ancient One immediately cut in, clearly worried that if _I_ managed to tear my way into her reality, I might have let the way open for others to follow.

"I don't know how I arrived in this dimension. Over twenty years ago, I woke up as a human baby. Uncertain of my whereabouts, I was content to simply blend into the local population, until certain events pushed me into bettering my fragile body, ensuring my survival, since I don't know what happens to my soul should my vessel die." I revealed, though I'm tweaking the facts somewhat.

I don't like telling her even this much (alternative facts(=blatant lies) as they are), but by stressing the fact that I've been here for over two decades and the world hasn't been destroyed yet, I hope to convince the Ancient One to see me in a less dangerous light.

Of course, to her twenty years are gone in the blink of an eye, and she's incredibly young compared to the threats she usually faces (really, 700 years isn't all _that_ old, and certainly not Ancient. Even at this point, I could easily live that long, and that's without entering in deals with eldritch abominations. For fuck's sakes, _Alexandra_ was easily twice as old as the Ancient One, and she was just a human using chi!), so a being like me showing it could be patient for a mere twenty years probably wouldn't impress her all too much.

"You simply appeared on Earth? Were you summoned?" the Ancient One asks wearily, but I can still spot the minute shifts in her stance that show she's less tense than before.

"Like I said: I don't know. I simply woke up on the steps of an orphanage, in the form of a human baby."

"You see this world as if it were a play, with certain people performing predetermined actions. The Ancient One revealing her connection to the Dark Dimension shocked you, and even now I can tell that my presence at her side unnerves you, but it is more out of surprise at the _way_ things are revealed, rather than their existence in the first place. Meaning you already knew of both the Ancient One's connection and my own future actions against her. How can that be? Did your people monitor the events of this universe, and were you sent back in time?" Kaecillius then asked, and just like the Ancient One, he and Mordo were slowly but surely loosening their stance, though they all had their respective weapons trained on me.

"In a way. My people are capable of viewing other dimensions, much like you would watch a movie. We enjoy watching events unfold through time, sometimes even revisiting our favorite moments. I have watched the entirety of your universe, from beginning to end, multiple times, all of your actions remaining the same each and every time. My appearance here, however, has changed the timeline quite significantly."

"That explains a lot…" the Ancient One murmured, looking me over with a critical eye.

I could tell that they were slowly beginning to believe me, but my 'origins' were clearly still putting them on edge, as I basically told them that I was a higher-tiered being than anything currently in existence. Which, considering that I was (once) real and they weren't, wasn't even that far off the mark.

"Is that why you seek power? Why you took the name of the Titan of Heavenly Light and Wisdom for yourself? You wish to return to your home, or at least your previous level of power?" Mordo spoke up this time, and out of the three Sorcerers, he was the tensest.

I wasn't really surprised by that. The Ancient One was confident in her power, and with good reason. Kaecillius, I could tell, was more intrigued than scared, which made sense when you considered the fact that with all the serums I had, I could offer a vast increase in power for a very light cost (an increase in magical power similar to the increase in power Extremis granted would usually require some pretty nasty sacrifices).

By-the-books Mordo, however, saw only a threat in me, a being that freely admitted that time was a constant and then immediately added that it had changed that constant. If he knew that I had preserved Phineas' soul, he would probably attack me on the spot, thinking I had sacrificed a hundred children to do it or something (that was an _actual_ requirement, by the way. Some Black Magic practitioners amongst the Aztec had become quite infamous for such rituals).

Compared to the morally flexible Ancient One and Kaecillius, Mordo would be the one I had to keep an eye on.

"In a manner of speaking. This universe possesses the means to allow its denizens to reach godhood. Achieving it myself might send me back home, or it might not. Either way, I shall have the power to keep my anchor to this reality safe from any and all harm, and that is all that I seek. I merely took the name Hyperion because it fit with the theme that started to surround my emerging powers; I have no wish to subjugate humanity as my predecessors have done. I merely seek that which all sentients seek: survival." I reply in the most honest and sincere tone I can manage, with such success it should, in my humble opinion, grant me an Oscar at the very least.

"I have no way to verify your tale, but even if it were true, I cannot let you go about your ways unchallenged. I know that you will eventually turn your gaze towards Kamar-Taj, and I can guess what it is you seek within its Sanctum. I am bound to protect it with my life if need be. It seems our goals are directly opposed, Hyperion, New Titan." The Ancient One says gravely, but I can hardly focus on her words as I feel something _ripple_ over me when she grants me that title.

Something, on a deep, mystical level, has fundamentally changed.

If only I knew what.

"They need not be, Ancient One. I will eventually seek the power of the Eye of Agamotto for myself, that much is true. But that does not mean that I cannot take it without opposing you. As the leader of the Masters of the Mystic Arts, your task is to safeguard Earth against all magical, and interdimensional threats, using whatever means at your disposal in order to do so, including the Eye. Should I come to have it in my possession, I Vow to you that I shall use it as you have, for the sake of Earth and its inhabitants." I quickly cut in before the Sorcerer can unleash their attacks.

I might get Mordo or Kaecillius, but that would still leave the Ancient One at my back, and with an ally to boot. No, at this point, conflict isn't the preferable solution. Actually, nothing is the _preferable_ solution here. I had hoped to wait until I was a magical powerhouse until I went anywhere _near_ the Ancient One, but once I again I had forgotten to take into account that these were real people now, and that they could act on their own.

Which included approaching me before I was ready to approach them instead.

"I hardly see why I should agree to such a deal, since the Eye is already in service of the Sanctums and the defense of Earth. Handing over one of our most prized artifacts, crafted by our founder, does not provide any benefits I can see." The Ancient One sharply replies, but she's taken off guard when I break out into a smile at her words.

"So we've established my proposal is sound in principle, now we're just haggling over the price." I say with a sly grin, prompting a surprised blink from the Ancient One.

"… Did you just… quote Jack Sparrow at me?"

Now it was my turn to blink in surprise.

"You know that movie?"

"There _are_ movie theatres in Kathmandu, you know. Sometimes we have a night out just like everybody else, we're not monks." The Ancient One says with a slight smirk, and I can tell that the tension has been broken.

They are still wary, but judging by the masked relief I can spot with Mordo and Kaecillius, the Masters hadn't been all that eager to engage in combat with me anyways. If I prove to be a threat to the Sanctums, they'll attack me without hesitation, but as long as I'm willing to play ball with them, they hold off for now. Which was my goal all along. I know that the Ancient One will never willingly give up the Eye of Agamotto to anyone, let alone me, but that's fine.

All I need is for her to not attack me right here and now, so that I can become powerful enough that in time, I can just take it.

Or wait until she dies. Either one works for me.

Now, for the _true_ power that fuels all magicians' spells: misdirection. Let's give these fine people something to focus on other than my timely demise, shall we?

"Right. So you agree that me being in possession of the Eye is in itself not an issue, as long as it is properly compensated, the first and foremost being that its use remains in service of the protection of Earth. Allow me to put your mind at ease on that front at least: I am compelled by Divine Mandate to save Earth, and as such, using the Eye for means that would counteract that Mandate would be impossible for me." I explain as the four of us power down our respective glows (well, the three of us, Kaecillius had been wielding one of those glass spears of his, and while I was bulletproof, I wasn't sure if I was magical-spear proof as well).

"Divine Mandate?" Mordo asks in a suspicious tone, and I give a self-deprecating smile in return.

"Ran into a spot of trouble with a certain panther goddess about a year back. I had committed offense against her, but escaped punishment by proving myself worthy enough to be her champion instead, thus righting my wrong. As her champion, I must follow her orders, which so far have merely consisted of the single command to save Earth."

Again I tweaked the facts somewhat, downplaying just what I had done in order to piss said goddess off, as well as making it seem that there was a leash on me keeping me in check. Hopefully, that would take away much of the worries of the Sorcerers.

"While the knowledge that you cannot act against the Earth for as long as you haven't found a loophole is certainly comforting, I still do not see any benefit in allowing you to take the Eye of Agamotto. It is safe in the hands of the Masters of the Mystic Arts, and safe it shall remain." The Ancient One cut in, clearly intrigued, but also unimpressed, by my haggling for the item instead of merely fighting for it as she had probably expected me to do, apparently not picking up on the fact that obtaining the Eye isn't my current goal (or she might have. The woman is impossible to read, I swear).

In a way, it was annoyingly smart of her to confront me here and now, and really the only logical option for her to take. Within now and next year, I'd probably have amassed enough power to breach Kamar-Taj and take the Time Stone by force if needed, and I always had the option to just wait until the Ancient One bit the bullet.

' _Of course, that's unlikely to happen, now that she has actively changed events in order to counter my own future knowledge.'_ I think to myself as I glance in Kaecillius' direction.

"I understand, Ancient One. Which is why I am willing to exchange gifts for it. You draw upon the Dark Dimension in order to prolong your life, but this is a perilous endeavor, in which you risk _his_ attention at any moment, which would spell doom for all. I instead offer a far simpler solution."

From the corner of my vision, I saw Kaecillius stand up a bit straighter, while the Ancient One herself leaned forwards just the slightest amount, unable to completely hide her interest.

Mordo just scowled at me.

Asshole.

"Longevity is always at a cost. I have heard of your actions against the traitorous Hand, surely you must know that defying Lady Death always comes at a price." The Ancient One said warily, clearly on the lookout for the Faustian end of the deal I was trying to broker.

"This was true for the original method which I am offering. The risk of dying instead was great, and even if successful, instability almost always followed, both physical and mental. But through thorough research by the brightest minds on the planet, and by severely weakening the procedure, we have managed to find a method to easily add decades, if not centuries to someone's life." I explain casually, and this time the Ancient One doesn't even bother with hiding her interest as she slightly tilts her head in question.

Elaborating, I reach out to my desk, and with a few swift taps, I call up several screens showcasing both the Rejuvenation Serum, as well as a watered down version of Extremis (increased regeneration, none of the glowy powers).

"By fixing the body of all the flaws and weaknesses that come with age, a person can be returned to the peak of their youth, again and again and _again_ , all without worry of mental instability. Absolutely zero chance of megalomanial or homicidal tendencies, it is completely safe. The only drawback of this method of immortality is that it requires upkeep, since it takes a new application in order to reverse age each time. A more permanent solution increases the healing factor of humans to incredible levels. You won't regrow a limb, but the wear and tear of the body is reduced to almost zero, keeping you in the peak of your physicality for decades at the very least. Both are yours, Ancient One, regardless of the outcome of our discussion tonight."

For a few long moments, not a word is spoken as the Ancient One intently reads the information on the screens in front of her, while off to the side, Kaecillius is nearly standing on the tips of his toes in order to get a closer look at my Fountain of Youth in a vial.

Resisting the urge to yell 'but wait, there's more!' I continue speaking, trying to butter the Sorcerer's up now that their guard is down, my sole objective being to get them the hell out of Othrys without sparking a fight I'm not ready for.

Yet.

"I also offer aid. As you already know, Pangborn is teaching me the basic principles of the Mystic Arts, as is his right as a Master. I intend to learn all I can from him, and I hope to put his teachings to use in the service of humanity. I wish I could study under you, Ancient One, but I understand if this thought discomforts you. However, meager as my skills may be, know that they are available to the Sanctums should the need be dire. Especially concerning… _him_." I trail off with a significant nod to the Ancient One's forehead, where the dark mark is still visible, though no longer blazing.

"You want us to believe you would put yourself into the service of the Sanctums?" Mordo scoffs, and I can sense agitated energy from within him, not focused enough to be considered part of a spell, but active enough that he can summon one in a moment's notice.

"Service? No, never service. I bow to none, not man nor god. But an alliance? Now _that_ is something that I would very much enjoy." I say gravely as I draw myself up to my full length as I stare Mordo down.

Appearing harmless is all well and good, but if I act _too_ meek and submissive, I'll just end up making the Ancient One weary again, since a being like me acting like that was a text book example of biding your time until you could strike someone in the back.

The fact that I was planning something just like that certainly didn't help in keeping her suspicion off me.

Which was why I was glad when she interjected when she did, her stance loose but her eyes hard, as she studied me intently.

"Know that the Sorcerer Supreme has heard your offers of gifts and allegiance, Hyperion of the East River. Despite them, the Sanctums will not allow you to wield the Eye of Agamotto, as it is only to be wielded by the Sorcerer Supremes. However, I currently do not see you as a threat to the safety of Earth, or to the Sanctums, and as such, we shall not do battle on this day. Go in peace, follow your Divine Mandate, and know that should you lift a hand against humanity, the Masters of the Mystic Arts shall be there to strike you down." The Ancient One spoke in a formal tone, almost as if she were following a ritual or something.

I suppose it pays to be polite when dealing with Supra-Dimensional Eldritch horrors.

Even as my face took on a downcast expression at being denied the Eye of Agamotto, I gave the Ancient One a formal bow, expertly hiding my cheer at achieving my true goal.

It seems our wizards duel was to be postponed for just a little while longer, thankfully.

"I understand, Ancient One of Kamar-Taj. I will not lie, and will freely admit that the denial of an object of such power that it might have returned me home, to my family, saddens me deeply. Yet, I am grateful that the Sanctums presently do not see me as a threat. Depart in the knowledge that I have heard, and shall heed, your warning, and that my offers of gifts and aid are available to all who enter the Sanctums." I reply in an equally formal tone, and a sense of closure falls over the room.

It seems we're done talking then.

Giving a nod at my words, the Ancient One casually makes a portal, with Mordo quickly walking through, though Kaecillius is slower to follow. Before he enters the glowing tear in space-time (I can vaguely see some rural area on the other side, presumably Kathmandu), he looks at me with a searching gaze.

"Those gifts of yours… you say they are available to _all_ within the Sanctums?"

"Indeed. You need but ask, and it shall be provided. I hope to prove myself a true ally to the Masters of the Mystic Arts and their cause." I lie easily, and after a considering nod, Kaecillius is through as well.

For a moment, the Ancient One slowly looks from the portal to me and back.

"In a way, I must thank you." She slowly murmurs as she approaches the glowing ring.

"For what?" I ask as I raise an eyebrow in surprise.

"For so long, I knew the narrative of the world. I knew what had been, what was, and what was to come. For centuries, I knew that I would be struck down by one of my own, a student dear to my heart, as they all are. And now… now there is a fog over my foresight, even as I try to clear it with one of the mightiest artifacts in the universe. Peering into the future is like looking at it through a thick veil from the darkened lighting of a dim room." The Ancient One slowly muses, her eyes not focused on anything I can see.

"And you thank me for this? Why?" I ask in a puzzled tone, surprised to see the Ancient One give a small smile.

"Do they not say 'ignorance is bliss'? All this time, I was searching for the next crisis, the next horror, my tomorrows bleak and filled with pain. And now I have been forced to discard all that. My chains of destiny are broken, and I am free to move as you are. The narrative that you and your people have been observing from a place outside of time has been irrevocably changed, and I had a hand in that. A thought both terrifying as well as… exhilarating. For the first time in _centuries_ , I look to tomorrow not with dread and weariness, but with hope as well. For _that_ I thank you. Goodbye, Hyperion, New Titan. We shall speak again, though I do not know when."

And with those words, the Ancient One is through the portal as well, though she comes to a pause on the other side, halting in her tracks, before she turns to look at me trough the tear in space.

"As clouded as my visions are now, _one_ keeps surfacing again and again. A terrible power, unleashed upon the galaxy, bought at too great a price. The horror of a trillion beings, crying out in fear and sorrow, as the balance of the universe is irrevocably shifted-" she raises her hand "-with but a snap of the fingers."

And with those words, she snaps her fingers, at which the portal immediately collapses, leaving me in the dark office to ponder her words, and that new title she has given me, even as I resolutely put her final warning out of my mind.

' _I'll_ _ **change**_ _that. It won't happen. It_ _ **won't**_ _.'_

In order to bring my mind to other thoughts, I recall the title the Ancient One had given me, and the weird feeling of change that had followed it. I know that in magic, names have power, and that I am more magically attuned than most.

But a _title_?

Hyperion, the New Titan….

As I take a seat behind my desk, I decide I quite like the sound of that.

* * *

 **March 13th**

It's the day after the Ancient One has left, and Othrys is like an ant hill. There are so many projects going on simultaneously, even I have trouble keeping up. Sitting behind my desk, I make a quick mental recap, just to make sure I'm on top of everything.

Sterns is currently putting the last finishing touches on the scanner I had him build so that I could track down Ego's Seed. A potentially powerful boost to my arsenal, but it's not going anywhere, nor is it going to be activated any time soon, so it's low priority.

Radcliffe has left more than a few breadcrumbs for Skye to follow since I gave him his orders a week ago, in-between breaks from Operation: Respawn. With the Operation a success, he had left a few more for her to find, and told me that she would figure out where the data-packages were originating from before the week was out.

Currently he's working with Phineas on building bodies and utilizing the uploaded consciousness to its full potential, though he's ready to pack and go to the Kree City at a moment's notice. The Kree City can offer me powerful benefits, but I need some key data first, most importantly an Inhuman's DNA and preferably a Diviner. The former would apparently show up within the week, the latter was hidden away in S.H.I.E.L.D. lock-up. Or one was, anyways. Sterns' scanner should also be able to pick up any other Kree artifacts lying around. So again, at the moment, low-priority, shifting to top priority once I had the required components.

Harper brought me the Thompsons a few days ago, but as I was in the middle of resurrecting/preserving Phineas, I didn't exactly have time to deal with them. They weren't locked in the dungeons (yes, I _finally_ had a proper dungeon, though since it was state of the art, there wasn't any of the traditional atmosphere of rats and dripping sewage. The moment I jokingly opted to add those features, Burstein, who had proudly been constructing them, gaped at me like I kicked his puppy. Or T-Rex, as is the case. I quickly dropped the notion after that), but they were _firmly_ told not to stray too far away from their guest quarters.

I had given Harper permission to do some soft interrogation on them, and while they were willing to help put a stop to their wayward son by offering some helpful leads (apparently even a man as careful and mobile as Kilgrave still has his favorite hangouts) they immediately shut down the idea of giving the man's powers to me.

It wasn't as much a question of will (that could be… _persuaded_ , after all) but more a question of ability. Because Kilgrave's power was based around a virus, a regenerating, burning individual like me (or any Extremis-enhanced, really) would simply kill it the moment it was introduced to their body. Enhancing the virus so it could survive such conditions… a shudder ran down my raised spine at the thought of it.

Tinkering with viruses in order to make them stronger? That way lied the route of the Zombie Apocalypse.

Nope. Thanks, but no thanks.

I fucking hate zombies.

Especially if they're real.

So, that avenue was a bust. Still, maybe pheromones could work? I'm sure Hansen has _some_ creature in that hellish greenhouse of hers that uses pollen in its attack. Study Kilgrave's virus down to the tiniest detail, figure out _how_ it works, apply its principles to pollen or pheromones or some shit like that, implant it inside me.

Tadah! Free Mind Control, right there!

The Thompson's of course wouldn't agree to making the second coming of their son, so instead I told them that their research would be used to cure Kilgrave, free him from the burden that they placed on him.

They agreed, not out of parental love (you can't put your child through shit like that and still have the gall to call yourself a parent), but more out of guilt, I think. By taking away the power they gave him, they hope to atone for the misery he caused with it.

I didn't really care in the end. They weren't a threat, and they were of possible future use to me, so I was content to simply confine them within Othrys. It wasn't as if they could mess anything up, on purpose or otherwise. Hansen's and Radcliffe's security system was foolproof, and now I had Phineas to always keep an eye on them. They weren't leaving their quarters (appearing like a nice penthouse, so they didn't really have anything to complain about, in my opinion, since by all rights they should be locked away in the cells instead) without my specific say-so.

Their son, on the other hand, was a different story. Two days ago, a few hours before I had initiated Operation: Respawn and brought Phineas back from the brink of death, Harper had locked onto Kilgrave, with Jessica requesting to come along for the ride.

While I hadn't seen Jessica after her enhancement with Extremis, as I had been virtually living out of sublevel four at that point, she had sounded healthy enough over the phone when she asked to accompany Harper, so I saw no harm in letting her take her new strength out on the scum of the earth.

And if she saw what _true_ outright villainy looked like, the better she would regard me.

Win-win in my book.

Not so much in Kilgrave's I imagine.

They were currently closing in on his position, and would probably confront him tomorrow, while he was in transit to his next location, so as to minimize the chance of any thralls getting caught in the crossfire. At the moment, there was nothing to be done but to just wait and see. Either tomorrow I had a man with the scariest power on the planet in my clutches, or Harper would be reducing a corpse to ashes and scatter them to the wind.

Since I had the Thompsons already, either one was fine with me.

Hansen was diligently working with Pangborn as she tried to grasp the fundamentals of magic. She tried some of the basics herself, but it was quickly apparent that she had no talent for the Mystic Arts whatsoever, which annoyed her to no end when she saw me absorbing Pangborn's lessons like a sponge, my own raw magical power already outstripping his.

Learning Magic was top priority at the moment, especially after the scare the Ancient One had given me, but honestly, that was already progressing as smoothly as I could hope for. Each day, Pangborn would teach me a spell, with the spell's difficulty slowly rising over time. Naturally, I would master that spell within the day (I already had the whips and the shields down pat), after which I and Hansen (who would always monitor the lessons) would go over every last bit of the spell, trying to break it down to its fundamental level.

By doing this, we hoped to find out _how_ the spell worked: just how was an influx of energy translated into its desired effect, _why_ was the spell activated by a specific set of gestures, how specific did the gestures need to be, what effects did changing certain variables have, what _were_ all the differing variables?

As our knowledge slowly but surely increased, I hoped to eventually find a way to merge magic and chi, something that Pangborn said nobody for the past three millennia had been able to do (in fact, it was thought flat-out impossible if it weren't for the fact that Agamotto had been rumored to do it, as well as a few notably powerful Sorcerer Supremes after him).

I had no idea what the end result of fusing the two different mystical branches would be, but if Agomotto's legends were anything to go by, I should be able to punch holes in reality itself.

Yeah, _definitely_ top priority.

However, magic isn't something that allows itself to be rushed, and the slow but steady progress I was already making was honestly preferable over sudden but uncontrollable powerspikes should I try to push my research any further.

Better to just let that be, for the moment.

And also to stay the hell away from Hansen's greenhouse. Mixing plants with Extremis _might_ be beneficial (the pop-corn plants she had created were certainly memorable) but for the most part they were just plain nasty.

Thank god my island was surrounded by water (as all islands are, I just realize, god I need sleep), since I can already tell that the forests outside Othrys already have a distinctly more… jungle-y feeling to them.

At least Susan is enjoying herself changing trees that are actually capable of running away.

Burstein, whenever he wasn't working in Hansen's greenhouse in order to 'relax' (they're psychopaths, the lot of them. And they say that _I'm_ bad?!) had picked up a lot of Sterns old projects, including the Omni-Cure. It was practically completed, but Burstein was fighting and endless battle against just about every healthcare organization in the world.

If they had their way, testing would be _decades_ off.

Fortunately, there were universities all over the world that were all too eager to work with a scientist from Othrys, and there were plenty of people that were willing to volunteer for a medical trial from the company capable of regrowing limbs.

As far as his own projects were concerned, he had two currently going on: the first was applying the Amber Armor to non-epidermal structures (the ferrocrete he had designed was based on the same principle as the Amber Armor, mimicking its molecular structure, but not enhanced with it. Meaning that theoretically, my base could become even _more_ durable) like cloth, and the second was going back to his roots.

The way Amber Armor worked was based on the molecular structure of abalone's shells. Burstein was now looking into the rest of the animal kingdom to see if there were other beneficial traits that he could incorporate into humans.

Huh. Genetically engineered cat-girls could actually become a thing in this universe.

Once I had my hands on Celestial flesh, I'll put him and Hansen on it in order to study it, though I probably wouldn't be able to use Ego's Seed to its fullest potential until I had a look inside Peter's genetic make-up to see how Celestial DNA meshed with human DNA.

For now though, I left Burstein to his own devices, glad to see the man was happy doing what he loved.

Abusing science in order to genetically enhance humanity.

Gotta love the drive of my employees.

As for the people that I still wanted to get my hands on, some were easier to reach than others. I briefly entertained the thought of setting up a recruitment program inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, but quickly decided against it.

I wasn't entirely sure just how many strings Fury was currently pulling to keep me out an about in the hopes of me allying myself with S.H.I.E.L.D. (either as an Avenger or by enhancing his agents, Fury would take either one really), so I thought it best to leave well enough alone for now.

No need to step on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s toes when all I had to do was wait until Carter's shadow war against Hydra boiled over, throwing the organization into disarray. As heavily infested as it was, even a flawless pruning on Carter's part would still leave them crippled enough for me to simply swoop in and steal their brightest young minds right from under their noses.

Still, sending an invite to Fitz-Simmons, Dormer and Gill wouldn't hurt, and Othrys could always use more genius.

Brain Boosted and loyal, those four could come up with some truly terrifying and powerful stuff for me, but gaining that loyalty would take some time. I designated the young geniuses as currently low-priority, until they responded positively to my invite, after which they would be considered medium-priority as I tried to get them into the fold.

I really wanted Foster and Selvig to work for me, not just because of their raw genius and potential (I was nearly salivating at the thought of having my own Bifrost), but also because it would give me an in with Thor, who from my memories would turn out to basically be the strongest being in the universe after getting his hands on Stormbreaker, becoming one of the _very_ few beings who could still pose a threat to me even after my Infinite Steps Program (I had stopped counting a while back when things had started to spiral out of my control) had been completed.

In short, someone who I _really_ wanted to like me, instead of bashing my head in, and I thought that Foster at least would be easy pickings, since she was going through a bit of depression at the moment since she had given up on ever finding Thor. I had tried to approach her, but Selvig was fiercely protective of her, and was for some reason more trusting of S.H.I.E.L.D. than me. He didn't let me see her, told me that they were perfectly fine where they were, and then shut off the call.

I didn't know whether S.H.I.E.L.D. had been painting me in a bad light (I could see them do it, especially considering Selvig's worth to them, their dislike of me, and the fact that most in their command were currently death-cult Nazi's), or, and this was the far more terrifying possibility, Narrative was throwing a wrench in my plans.

The Invasion of Earth by Loki was one of the key-points in the MCU, and for that to happen, Selvig needed to be under the Frost Giant's control. Him not working for S.H.I.E.L.D. when the Trickster arrives in a few months would cause immense ripples in the timeline, potentially even larger than anything I had done so far.

So, what if Narrative was making _sure_ that it happened, by making it so that I couldn't get my hands on Selvig before Loki did? In all honesty, while terrifying, it's probably for the best. Harsh as it sounds, the Invasion holds a lot of benefits for me, and not just the Chitauri tech that'll be lying around for grabs.

So, with some remorse, I cross Selvig and Foster off my mental list. I immediately cross off the name below as well. While I would love to get my hands on Whitehall, I'm currently swamped with projects, and just don't have the time to look into him. I'll probably send Jessica after him once she gets back from taking in Kilgrave and has had some downtime to recover from whatever horrors the man was currently inflicting on his victims, but as uncomfortable as it is to leave a hardcore Nazi out in the wild, whereabouts unknown, I decide to put Whitehall out of my mind for now.

Hell, thinking about it, I might send Carter after him, make him her problem. She is one of the very few people alive who would recognize him on sight, having met him when he was younger. I probably won't do it though, since I want him alive (for as long as he's useful to me, at least) but I might send her nipping at his heels, driving him from hiding, with Jessica to actually take him in.

Something to think about, I suppose.

Not that it matters at the moment, considering I already sent Carter her first target: Rumlow. Not for any specific reason other than the fact that he's dangerous enough to satisfy Carter that I'm not sending her after inconsequential people as a means to keep her busy (considering just how little I care about Hydra compared to some of the other threats out there, from my perspective I'm doing exactly that), while still being someone low enough in Hydra's hierarchy they won't do anything rash.

I'm saving _that_ for when I start pointing out senators to Carter (those that aren't already beheaded, that is).

As far as objectives in America are concerned, that leaves only the Darkhold, probably the only object on my list that really gives me pause. Some of the others carry risks, or drawbacks, but none are as dangerous or insidious as the Darkhold. It's much like the One Ring: it _corrupts_ , and before you even know it, you're committing horrifying acts with glee, your mind completely consumed by the Hellish artefact.

I might be resistant to it. Between the various enhancements to both my body and my mind, as well as my mystical training, I might be able to overcome the influence of the Darkhold.

Or I might not.

A Darkhold-controlled Hyperion? That would bring the Ancient One running faster than I can say 'aw fuck'. The far more terrifying thought is that, if I were empowered by the Darkhold, the Ancient One might not be able to beat me.

I would probably end up cracking the planet in half long before Loki even arrives here.

Still, the benefits…

And it _is_ closest out of all the remaining objects and people I wish to collect…

But the risks…

I'm torn, and I just can't seem to make a decision. So I push it off instead. I'll come back to it later, either when I'm absolutely sure that my mind is sufficiently fortified against it, or when I have the Ghost Rider on my ass.

Offering it an artifact from Hell in exchange for it not burning my soul sounds like a good deal to me.

Actually, _can_ the Ghost Rider judge my soul? If the Ancient One's words are anything to go by, I might be too powerful, or just too damned large to be sent to Hell.

Then again, Magic.

And Magic is bullshit.

Putting the Darkhold out of my mind, I look at the remainder of my mental list. A set of objects, and a few people, all located in Europe. I'll wait until I have Skye (or at least her DNA), so that I can drop off Radcliffe at the Kree City, have Sterns on the look-out for any more Diviners, and then make my way to Europe, a certain team in Siberia my top-priority.

Thankfully, travel time is going to be a non-issue: Pangborn's decided today I'm going to try summoning my first portal.

* * *

 **March 15th**

Two days after the Ancient One's surprise visit, I was floating high in the air over Missouri, an unsuspecting Dairy Queen far below me, a futuristic looking device in my hand.

It had taken a day for Sterns to finish the prototype, but before he was willing to hand it over to me, he had spent another day perfecting it. Instead of merely picking up anomalous wavelengths, it was now a highly sophisticated spectrometer, capable of reading just about every wavelength imaginable, and with incredible accuracy trace their source of origin from just the tiniest amounts of particles, like a shark or a bloodhound.

Of course, Sterns being Sterns, it also functioned as a portable TV, could theoretically be used as a microwave, and it was even capable of playing your Spotify list.

Sometimes, the thought of my friend loose in the world scares me. It really does.

Looking from the read out on the screen to the forest miles below me, I plummet down without warning, startling a few low-passing birds as I do. Before I can crash through the tree tops and onto the forest floor, I catch myself, and slowly float down.

No need to cause a ruckus, after all.

Sterns proves his mettle once more, as when I break through the underbrush, I can see Ego's Seed literally right underneath me. Floating a few feet away, I take a small metal disk from my pocket, holding it between my fingers as I stretch my hand out in front of me.

Focusing intensely (and considering I was a Brain Boosted individual, I really mean _intensely_ ) I called upon my Meteor Fist, the golden glow quickly enveloping the disk. Then, with slow, methodic movements, I drew a circle in the air in front of me, a grin breaking out on my face when I saw that my movements traced lines of bright sparks, which remained hanging in the air.

And as I finished my casting circle, I was greeted with a portal straight to the outside of Othrys (I had Pangborn ward the base itself to hell and back against teleportation the day after the Ancient One had left, though he warned me that it was unlikely to keep her from simply walking back in again), where Burstein and Maya stood waiting, some of their assistants chattering excitedly behind them, while Maya was talking nonstop at a floating little drone which recorded each and every word.

Standing next to Maya and the grinning Burstein, his eyes wide in amazement, stood Pangborn, his gaze slowly moving from the glowing edges of the portal to the smoking disk in my hand.

Turning towards our resident wizard, Maya's face was split by a smug grin.

"I _told_ you, substituting the inherent mystical properties of the Sling Ring by supplying some other mystical fuel for the portal is _totally_ possible! Which means that my theory of there at least being _some_ form of Law of Thermodynamics or Equivalent Exchange within magic is also true! Oh, the research we could do with _this_ …"

"And as I have told _you_ , there are no _Laws_ within Magic. It is boundless energy, fueled and shaped by sheer Will and Imagination. There are rules and guidelines, but by its very _nature_ , Magic does not follow Laws."

"Oh come _on_ , this again? Look, with sufficient data-"

*AHEM!*

My supremely subtle cough snapped the two out of their heated discussion, and caused the snickering assistants to quickly straighten up as well, though Burstein, knowing me the longest out of all of them, merely gave me a grin.

"If the two of you are _quite_ finished? Pangborn, you go through first. You still have the largest amount of magical knowledge in Othrys, you know what to look for should there be any instabilities. Your own Sling Ring should allow you to find your way back to us should the portal send you somewhere else."

It shouldn't, since sound and sight came through just fine, but it never hurt to double check.

Giving a professional nod, Pangborn raised the hand with the Sling Ring on it, and swiftly stepped through the portal, all the while examining it with a trained eye. I was watching as well, and I didn't spot so much as a flicker in the portal, something that was confirmed when Pangborn turned to me with a reassuring nod.

"The portal is stable, and steadily drawing on your power. However, it might not last for much longer as it is."

 _That_ gave me a surprise.

"I thought you said it was stable? Is it deteriorating somehow?"

"No, like I said, it's perfectly fine, a textbook portal if there ever was one. And with your magical reserves, you could keep it up for a day with ease. Your focus on the other hand…" Pangborn said with a small smile, nodding his head towards my glowing Meteor Fist.

Raising it to eyelevel, I saw what he meant: the disk had been rapidly heating up in my glowing fingers, and before my eyes the red-hot metal started to slightly sag, a flicker in the portal showing up in time with the melting of the metal in my hand.

I hadn't even noticed.

Shutting of my chi, I instead tried to use my Magic to fuel the portal, but I wasn't adept enough yet to make the switch smoothly, and the portal snapped closed. Looking at the now useless metal putty in my hand, I let out a sigh as I rubbed my bald head.

"Dammit. Seems we need something more durable than steel in the future. I hate picking up molten metal from my skin, it always has this annoying tingling sensation." I mutter as place the glowing disk in my pocket (my pants were treated with the Amber Armor after Burstein had a breakthrough in applying the process to cotton, so it was safer to just put it there rather than risk burning down the forest around me).

Pangborn gave a shake of his head as he raised his Sling Ring in order to create a portal so that Maya and Noah could come through and finally start studying Ego's Seed.

"So. _Weird_." The wizard muttered under his breath.

I open my mouth to snark a reply, but as the portal opens in front of us, I hear a soft chime. Tapping my ear, where a tiny Bluetooth-like device is placed, causes a screen to be projected about a foot away from my face, showing Phineas' face (well, his digitized face. It's mostly the same as the face that he had when he had been flesh and blood, but photoshopped to appear somewhat more handsome than he had been).

"Oh hey Michael! I just called to let you know that Harper and his guys returned from that capture or destroy mission you sent them on. Jessica looks pissed though, and none of the feeds show that guy you sent them after."

' _So, Harper ended up killing Kilgrave? Not exactly a loss, but this will certainly push back the research quite a bit.'_

"Thank you Phineas. Once Hansen and Burstein are through, I'll step right in, alright?"

"Sure thing boss!"

And with that the line goes dead, Phineas returning to do God knows what. Sure, ostensibly he's working with Radcliffe on building him a body (or even bodies), but ever since his changed state of being, Phineas' multitasking ability has gone through the roof. He's currently able to hold an in-depth conversation with Radcliffe, while simultaneously processing every single bit of data that enters Othrys' systems.

Who knows what he could be doing on the side?"

Best not to think about it, I decide, as I give a nod to my people in Missouri, before I step through Pangborn's portal and arrive in New York.

Portals are such bullshit.

Quickly taking off into the air (why walk when you can fly?) I give a lazy wave as Susan, who had been snoozing against Othrys' gates, opens a lazy eye as I rocket past her.

Entering the Hall was always a joy to me. As dull and utilitarian as the outside of Othrys looked, the inside was a combination of state of the art sci-fi and elegant design. Back in my old world, there had been a sci-fi game called Warframe, which had yet to be developed here, where there had been a faction called the Orokin, which were characterized by their opulent designs, which incorporated white and gold, with a gentle, classy architectural design form.

I had drawn them from memory, shown them to my construction workers and scientists, and instantly fell in love with my base when they made it even grander and more beautiful in real life.

Sadly, my entrance today was marred by the fact that a two ton, ferrocrete-based bench slammed into my face when the automatic doors slid aside to let me enter.

Also, fun fact, as I had just discovered, I'm apparently still capable of getting nosebleeds.

Thankfully the bleeding stopped after a few seconds, so only a few patches of the rich carpet beneath me were scorched. As I gently wiped away the rest of the glowing blood on my lip, I heard a dry chuckle come from my right.

"You alright there boss?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." I grouse as I look up to the end of the Hall, just in time to see black hair disappear around the corner in a hurry, loud footsteps echoing deeper into Othrys.

"The hell happened Harper? Kilgrave set her off or something?"

Turning to look at the veteran, I'm surprised to see him scowl. Sure, it's not like he's an emotionless robot or something, but the man is the very epitome of stoic. He takes as calmly to someone shooting him in the head as someone else would to being bumped into in the street.

For him to actually scowl that badly, something must've gone wrong.

"Don't tell me Kilgrave got-"

"We had earplugs, sealed suits, kept our distance, just like you said, even if it was overkill sir. He didn't get any of us."

"Then what the hell set her off?"

"What he did to the civilians that he _did_ get."

I turn towards Harper with a frown, already suspecting just what Jessica might have seen.

"I thought that was the entire reason you wanted to catch him in transit. No thralls."

"We did, sir. We tracked him to some gangster's party, settled in to wait. But he suddenly changed his MO and things went south. It… wasn't pretty. Miss Jones urged for a breach, I agreed. We went in, and saw that the target was waiting for us. I wanted to do an on the spot interrogation in order to figure out why the sudden shift, but he started talking first. Figure he didn't realize we were prepared for him, he just told my boys to put their guns against their heads and to pull the trigger. Looked mighty surprised for a sec when that didn't work, didn't look too surprised for long though."

"Really? Why's that?"

Harper turned to look at me with a shrug, his face still as impassive as it ever was.

"Kinda hard to look surprised when you ain't got a face no more, sir."

I slowly blink at the dryly delivered statement.

"Come again now?"

"Miss Jones jumped the gun. Flew forwards, punched his head clean off. I ordered her off the premises, searched the house top to bottom, but no signs that would explain the MO-shift. And Mr. Thompson wasn't exactly available for questioning at that point, sir. Best I can figure is that he found out we took his parents, so he did something big to draw you out. Succeeded in that at least."

"Jessica killed him?"

At Harper's nod, I let out a deep sigh as I rub a hand over my bald head. Some things never change, huh? Still, this way was a lot more brutal and messier than in the original timeline, and done by a Jessica that was far less jaded than her canon counterpart.

Fortunately, she was far less broken as well.

"Alright. Thanks Jim, I'll take it from here. Get some rest, then start talking to Phineas, who I resurrected while you were gone. You're head of security; you should get to know the spirit that inhabits your boss' base."

Once again, my efforts to catch Harper flat-footed are for naught, as he simply turns to look at me with slightly raised eyebrows, slowly blinking a few times before he gives me a curt nod.

"Sure thing. See you 'round sir."

And with that, he shoves his hands into his pockets, and leisurely saunters off, the picture of perfect serenity.

As I glance at the disappearing back of my head of security, I can't help but chuckle and shake my head.

' _One of these days, Jim, one of these days…'_

Looking towards where Jessica disappeared out of the lobby, I take a deep breath and scare my shoulders.

Time to get to work.

It doesn't take me all that long to arrive at Jessica's room (located in the luxury wing of the residential tier of Othrys, less opulent than my entrance hall, but still making plenty of use of cream white colors and golden highlights, all worked into softly swooping architecture) and for a moment I pause as I stare at her door.

Looking slightly upwards, I spoke in a soft tone.

"Phineas, could you make sure we have some privacy?"

Briefly, the LED line running across the ceiling blinks twice in short succession, and immediately, the sounds coming from the rest of this floor sound muffled.

"Thanks." I quickly say to my disembodied Majordomo, before I softly rap with my knuckles on Jessica's door.

"The fuck do you want Michael?" I heard her voice come from her room, sounding oddly muffled.

"How the hell did you know it was me?" I ask instead, hoping to draw her a little out of her shell.

"Because nobody I know got a big-ass shadow like you do, and nobody I _don't_ know would actually make it inside."

"That's…. fair enough, I suppose. Can I come in?"

For a few long moments, everything is silent, and I begin to think she'll send me away, before I can hear her give a long-suffering sigh.

"Fine. Whatever, come in."

There's the slight shuffling of movement as Jessica presumably moves to the wall, opening the holographic control panel of her room, before the red light next to her door blinks green.

Striding inside, I'm surprised how… neat the room is. Sure, clothes are piled on some of the chairs, her desk is absolutely covered in papers and forms (even as mighty as I was, not even Hyperion the New Titan could escape the terrible clutches of bureaucracy, not with a base this big), and I could spot a half-eaten sandwich on the dresser next to her King-sized bed (the same size as all beds in this part of the wing), but overall, it wasn't _that_ bad.

I had half expected to trip over a pile of underwear the moment I opened the door to be honest.

"Stop gawking like that, I'm not a _slob_. 'Sides, this room is too pretty to make a mess in." Jessica groused, and turning to her I can feel my mouth fall open as the woman turns away from the round window she had been standing in front of, her arms crossed in front of an impressive chest.

Because _somehow_ , for some reason, Jessica suddenly had boobs. Quite a pair of them too. In fact, the entirety of her body had changed, with her even being several inches taller now. It was as if someone had taken the previous, tiny, looking-like-a-wet-cat Jessica, looked up a picture of Yennefer from the Witcher series (impossible, since they did not exist here) and then tried to turn the former into the latter.

Quite successfully, I might add.

She was still _Jessica_ , and everything about her that made her Jessica, from her nose to her eyes to her stance to her lips, was still recognizable as being distinctly _her_. She was just… better looking.

 _Way_ better looking.

I was violently drawn from my musings when I felt something impact my chin with enough force that I briefly felt a slight stab of pain, and then I found myself flying back out through Jessica's doorway.

Halting and then righting myself in mid-air, I spot a fuming Jessica striding out of her room, the skin on her knuckles closing in front of my eyes.

"What the hell did I _just_ say about gawking, you _creep_!"

I make to respond, but then Jessica steps into a beam of light coming through the windows, and I get my first good look at her face, which has filled in more, giving her a healthy look.

And it shows me her wet eye-lashes, the red in her eyes, the dried tracks on her cheeks.

' _She's been crying_.' I realize, as I float down to her level, my feet not quite touching the ground.

It made sense, in a way. She had just killed someone for the first time, in a brutal and visceral way that must have brought back to mind all the fears she had as a child when she discovered that she was strong enough to snap a grown man in half.

Judging from what my fledgling esoteric powers managed to pick up from her, Jessica was currently a ball of emotions, sadness, anger, hurt and confusion a whirling torrent barely confined within her.

She just needed an outlet.

"For the last time woman, I'm _not a creep_!" I thunder back at her, but there's no heat in my words, nor is there any anger in my eyes.

I'm just painting a target on myself, that's all.

"Only creeps come into women's bedrooms to stare and drool at them!"

"I wasn't drooling!"

"So you admit you were staring!"

"Of course I was! Look at you! You're hot now!"

"And I wasn't hot before, is that what you're saying?!"

"For fuck's sakes woman, I've been saying that ever since I met you!"

 _That_ does it. Letting out an incoherent roar of rage, Jessica slams a fist into my jaw. This time, I'm expecting it however, and other than moving my head to the side, I remain in place.

Jessica isn't deterred, and quickly delivers several follow-up punches, and though each hits with the strength of a jackhammer (well, relatively speaking of course. I'm pretty sure that I can pick my teeth with a jackhammer at this point. Not sure why _would_ , just that I _could_ ), I'm not visibly affected other than allowing my head to twist with her punches, as I slowly float forwards, forcing her back into her room.

Jessica doesn't seem to notice, as she's now added kicks to her arsenal as well, shins slamming into my thighs with enough force that they can crumple a car with ease. I still move forwards, and without my prompting, Phineas closes the door to Jessica's room behind me without a whisper of a sound.

Jessica's attacks continue for a few more moments, but they're rapidly losing steam, and by now she's just weakly hammering away at my broad chest, tears and angry sobs coming from her as she does.

Unsure of what to do, I close the remaining distance between us, engulfing her in a hug. I feel her stiffen for a few moments, before the sobs return, in greater intensity this time, despite Jessica's visible efforts to contain them, and she throws her arms around my middle as well, squeezing hard enough that I can feel it.

Despite her unexplained growth spurt, she still barely reaches the top of my raised sternum, so I bend down a little so I can rest my chin on her head.

"Shhh… come on, that's it… just let it all out Jess…. I'm here…"

My rumbling voice easily fills the room as I keep whispering reassuring words at the distraught woman, doing what little I can to help her as she processes the trauma of seeing Kilgrave in action and killing him. Slowly, the sobs subside, and while I can tell that she's calmed down quite a bit, it's going to take a _lot_ more than just beating on me and a hug to get her over this.

Maybe it's time I look into hiring a psychiatrist for Othrys?

"I killed him."

I'm surprised at Jessica's small voice, but she hasn't loosened her grip so I continue hugging her.

"I know. Harper told me."

"Just like that. It all happened so fast… I didn't even realize it was all over until I… until I… felt the _blood_. It was so… _easy_." Jessica haltingly whispers, her voice faltering when she recalls the moment her fist parted Kevin's body from his torso.

"I know, Jessica, I know. What we are… we are more than human, Jessica. The powers, and the responsibility, are far greater. Here, life is easy, but outside of Othrys, we need to be careful when dealing with humans, and never forget just how fragile they are. But what you did today? Don't be ashamed of that Jess. Some would say it's wrong, but you did it for the right reasons. You saved people form a monster, try to focus on that."

For a while, Jessica is silent in my arms as she clings to me, and I think I pushed too hard or said the wrong thing, when she speaks up, her voice still soft, but with some of her old fire returning.

"When the hell did you get to sound so wise? Who are you quoting right now?"

I smile.

' _That's my Jessica_.'

"Saw right through that did you? It's from a game, so no great philosophers I'm afraid. But it was acclaimed as the best game of the year, maybe even the decade, and definitely the best in the franchise, if that makes you feel better."

"You know what? That actually _does_ make me feel better. I think that means I've been spending way too much time around you nerds. Still, a game? With that big brain of yours, you couldn't have quoted some Poe at me or something?"

"First off, I didn't know you liked Poe. Second, he's a bit of a downer. I'm more of a Keats fan myself."

I can hear Jessica chuckle at my statement as her grip on me loosens as she regains her composure, though she doesn't let go.

"Fair enough. Didn't figure you for a reader though. Didn't really think you had any hobbies at all, outside of becoming more powerful."

I let out a non-committal hum as I keep resting my chin on top of her head, the deep sound reverberating through her room.

"Well, getting more powerful _is_ a hobby of sorts, if you tilt your head and squint real hard: it's something that I enjoy doing, it takes up unreasonable amounts of time, and nobody is paying me for it. Still, I enjoy watching a movie or reading a book just as much as the next person. I'm actually thinking about picking up painting, you know, once things are less hectic around here."

That prompts a laugh from Jessica, though whether because of the idea of me painting or because of the notion of things _not_ being hectic in Othrys, I don't know.

Honestly, both sound equally ridiculous.

Feeling that she's calmed down enough, I pull back enough so that I can look at her, though I don't break the hug, since she has yet to let go as well.

"Mind telling me what all… _this_ is then?"

It's clear that Jessica tries to play it cool, but an unexpected downside of being enhanced with Extremis is that it's nearly impossible to hide your blush. She has trouble meeting my eyes as she starts explaining.

"I think you know this already, but my field doesn't interact with my muscles. Like, at all. It just layers itself over my body and handles any and all strain instead. I never really thought about it, until I went under for the Extremis-procedure and woke up like this. I was freaking the fuck out, but Maya only seemed a bit surprised at it. From the way she explained it, she had been expecting this to happen. Ever since the acc-… ever since I got my powers, I've not been using my muscles. For anything. Basically, Hansen told me that as far as my body was concerned, I hadn't lifted a finger in over ten years, ever since I was fourteen. The only thing keeping me from atrophying completely was my healing factor keeping me healthy, but it did mean I didn't… _develop_ as much as I could have. Extremis fixed that, pushed me to the top of what I could be."

"Huh. Wow."

"Wait, _really_? A 'wow' is all I get?" Jessica asks in a haughty tone as she pulls away a bit from me, though she still doesn't let go.

I shrug at her incredulous look, giving her a lazy smile.

"I think that just about covers it, so yeah. What did _you_ want me to say?"

Briefly Jessica furrows her brow in thought, before a gleam comes into her eye as she lets out a challenging smirk.

"How about whether I am your type _now_ , Mr. Creep." She says with a grin, which is immediately dashed from her face by my answer.

"Nope." I say easily, popping the 'p'.

"Bull _shit_! Look at me! I have abs! Boobs! I'm _everybody's'_ type!" Jessica says indignantly, stepping away from me and wildly gesturing up and down her ridiculously attractive body.

Still, I'm determined to not give her the satisfaction of catching me staring again, so I instead grin widely at her as I cross my arms in front of my chest.

"Sorry, but still no. I like blondes."

Jessica's look of fury is a beauty to behold.

* * *

 **March 19th**

"So, you're Hyperion, huh?"

"Indeed I am, Skye."

"Huh. I know that at this point I'm supposed to go all like, 'I expected you to be taller', but that doesn't really apply with you looking like _that_."

"…"

"…"

"Right this way, Skye. I feel you'll fit right in with the ranks of Othrys."

* * *

 **March 23** **rd**

It had taken Radcliffe a couple of days until he finally had the time to get around to testing Skye's blood, and a full day after that until he told me he was confident in identifying the different structures in the young woman's DNA that marked her as an Inhuman.

The moment he told me that, I told him to shrink his stuff (easy enough to do with non-organic components, and by now Sterns was far enough in his research that he was capable of manipulating simple vertebrae as well), after which I opened a portal to the empty lands a few klicks out from San Juan.

Joining me were Radcliffe and Skye, Radcliffe since he would be doing most of the research, Skye because she was already smart enough that Holden was willing to take her on as an assistant, because her DNA might prove useful when breaching the Kree City, but more importantly, because it would keep her away from Jessica.

The two women had hit it off right from the get-go, for some reason bonding over teasing the crap out of me, and I honestly felt I wouldn't be able to sleep peacefully if I were to leave those two unsupervised within Othrys (technically, Harper was now in command, but he thought it was funny, even if he refused to show it, and Phineas couldn't care less about my discomfort, since he was currently wrapped up in assembling his first body).

"The entrance to the city is underneath Castillo San Cristobal. I suggest entering after visiting hours. Once on the outskirts of the alien City, set up your lab and begin your first readings. Remember Radcliffe: slow and steady wins the race. _Don't_ go running off into the abandoned alien city touching who knows what and unleashing the Apocalypse on us. Skye, you hereby have my permission to taze Dr. Radcliffe if he shows any signs of breaching any of the Commandments of Reasonable SCIENCE!"

Ignoring Radcliffe's betrayed look and Skye's smug grin, I enlarge a bike that I had kept in my pocket, giving the handles to the dismayed looking scientist.

"If you need more materials, or manpower, just contact me. Either I'll have Pangborn open up a portal, or I'll do it myself, and we can ferry in whatever you need. Just… be _careful_ , alright? Sterns is currently searching the planet for another object that will make all this go a _lot_ easier, so just sit tight and start laying the foundations." I impress upon the scientist, getting an impatient nod in return.

I move to turn away from them, but Holden's hand on my arm stops me in my motions.

"When you go to Spain… when you go see… _her_ … Tell her that I'm sorry. Tell her that leaving her was the dumbest thing that I had ever done. I want to make things right. I _know_ I can make things right, and not just by healing her. But if she doesn't want to come, I'll… I'll understand." The scientist says with feeling, and placing my massive hand on his shoulder, I give him a grave nod.

"I'll tell her Holden. You'll get your second chance, I promise."

And with those words, I turn on my heel, and draw a portal in the air in front of me, the howling winds of Siberia in front of me, the sun of Puerto Rico shining on my back. And with but a step, I'm halfway around the world.

Portals are _bullshit_.

The entrance to the hidden base is right in front of me. The heavy steel door looks imposing, but I simply portal my way inside the building, arriving in the room where in another time and place, Tony Stark would learn the truth about his parent's deaths (I hadn't portalled straight inside because I still wasn't entirely sure of my accuracy, and I didn't know what would happen if ended up placing my portal inside a wall or something).

I glance around the five Cryo vats arrayed around me. These guys had higher kill counts than Bucky had, _before_ they were enhanced with the supersoldier serum. They were so balls-to-the-wall insane, _Hydra_ thought they were too murder-happy and locked them away to be forgotten. After their enhancement, a single one of them was capable of destabilizing nations.

Compared to me, they were harmless.

Still, after being stuck delegating stuff from behind my desk for _months_ , I was itching for some physical contest, so, dumb as it might be, I walked towards the nearest Cryo vat, the resting face of a large man with a chiseled jaw looking back at me.

My hands dig into the metal of the lid, the heavy iron crumpling underneath my strength, and with a heave I tear it clean from the pod. I let the heavy lid fall to the metal grating with an enormous clang. For a moment, nothing at all happens, as I'm staring motionless at the frozen man in front of me.

Then he opens his eyes, and a boot crashes into my face.

I'm briefly taken off guard by the unexpected attack, and as I take a half-step back, the Winter Soldier has already thrown himself from his pod, easily clearing several feet, completely ignoring his broken foot.

He lands in a rough roll, before coming to his feet with a slight snarl, grabbing the railing of the raised platform, vaulting over it, intent on retreating for now and attacking at a more opportune moment.

Only he doesn't descend.

Looking up, he sees me holding him up in the air by the back of his shirt, my feet hovering about a foot above the ground. With contemptuous ease, I hurl him back to the center of the platform, where he lands roughly on his side, the breath knocked from his lungs.

To his credit, he's on his feet and in a combat stance in a flash, seemingly unbothered by his lack of breath or his broken foot, apparently recognizing that fleeing isn't an option, so fighting it is then.

Foolish mortal.

Fighting isn't an option as well.

Not against _me_.

The more beastly side of me had been looking forwards to a fight, and adrenaline had been thrumming in my veins when the Winter Soldier's attack took me off guard.

But all it (and I) felt right now was… _disappointment_.

Luke Cage or Spiderman were already powerful enough to take one of these guys in a fist fight (alright, maybe not Spiderman, but that was solely due to lack of experience, not power).

Compared to me… these guys might be some of the most dangerous humans the world had ever seen, but they were just that.

Human.

 _Weak_.

Landing on the grating in front of the hunkered down supersoldier, I approach him with slow, measured steps, no guard to speak off. The crazed Hydra elite immediately capitalizes on it of course, striking me in the liver with enough strength it would've KO'd every human (and even some superhumans) that were unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of the mighty blow.

It tickled.

He has enough fight in him to leap up, ignoring his broken fist as the other is on a collision course towards my eye (figures people like him will always go for the obvious weakspot of the body), but I've seen enough.

My hand closes around his forearm in a flash (I can move at near supersonic speeds, does he _honestly_ think that he could attack faster than I could react?) and without any effort I lift my hand high above my head, taking the supersoldier with it.

Right as I've extended my hand as far as it will go, the Winter Soldier at the top of his arc in the air, I _slam_ him down onto the ground again, the grating buckling around his body with the force of the impact.

Not giving him a chance to recollect himself (to his credit, he's still conscious. Most people would be either knocked out, or just straight up _dead_ from that move) I bend down, my hand engulfing his head, as I raise him in front of me.

Without ceremony, I head-butt him with enough force I can hear a dry _'crack!'_ ring out, and as I hold the unconscious man out in front of me, I can see blood run down his forehead.

He'll be fine.

Now then, time to shackle these supersoldiers to my will. Technology alone would be insufficient, Hydra had proven that in the past. Let's see just what I could accomplish when I add magic to the mix, shall we?

* * *

 **March 28th**

It had taken me little under a week to slave the Winter Soldiers under my control to the point I was confident that they wouldn't rebel against me. Honestly, at this point they were more like mindless drones, completely incapable of acting without any input from me, though they thankfully retained all their previous skills and were capable of following my orders.

If I said 'topple North-Korea' then they'd do just that, using the skills they had employed in the past for much the same orders. However, if an unknown variable sprung up (for instance, what if both Korea's suddenly joined back together again, basically removing 'North-Korea' from existence) then they'd just shut down, unable to come up with ideas on their own.

Both a comforting thought as well as annoying.

Had I been able to implant Kilgrave's power into myself sooner, this wouldn't have been a problem, but Loki's arrival was getting closer and closer, and I got sick of waiting around. Still, even as… sub-optimal as they were now, they were still powerful tools, and I felt I had made some impressive progress in my magical knowledge as I tried to find ways to slave the Winter Soldiers to my will.

Of course, I wasn't in Siberia non-stop, making sure to portal back home each night, checking in on the progress the others were making.

Most were still advancing their own projects, though Sterns and Phineas had gotten breakthroughs. Phineas had finally finished his body and it honestly looked somewhat like Data from Star Trek (of course) though more basic and barebones. I meant that _literally_. Phineas had yet to develop a polymer that mimicked skin so he hadn't bothered putting it on the android. He was currently taking it for a test ride within Othrys, even as he was building a more sophisticated body for himself already.

Sterns had been given some small pieces of the Kree City to study from Radcliffe (a disappointed Skye told me the scientist had been a good boy, and that he had followed all of my rules, meaning that she hadn't had the chance yet to taze him) and he had used it to further calibrate his scanner, having picked up several locations in the world with similar energy signatures.

I sent out the five Winter Soldiers to retrieve the items as their first mission in order to test them, after making sure that none of the locations were on S.H.I.E.L.D. grounds (which was more of a chore than you might think, since a depressingly large amount of the signatures that Sterns had found were in S.H.I.E.L.D. storage, which was a damn shame since they probably didn't even know what half of it even _did_ ).

Maya and Burstein were completely engrossed in studying Ego's Seed, to the point they barely even acknowledged my presence when I poked my head inside their lab to check up on them. Deciding to leave them to it, I opted to quickly leave (the Venus flytrap that had leaped at my face had nothing to do with it, no sir), before I visited Jessica.

Me and Jessica were… complicated.

She had apparently remembered when I told her I thought she was hot back when I was trying to rile her up in in order for her to let out her emotions and our interactions had changed ever since then.

The teasing back and forth that we had done ever since I recruited her last year was still there, but it was definitely more… flirty, in nature than ever before, with me catching her giving me long, considering looks.

Even worse, I had caught _myself_ giving her similar looks.

Nothing had happened yet, but it was clear that she wouldn't be opposed to something like that. And shallow as it sounded, I wasn't entirely either ever since her transformation.

I had always liked Jessica for her abrasive personality and had respected her for her strong will, and that hadn't changed. It was just that physical attraction never even factored into our interactions since I just didn't feel any towards her. Then there had been the fact that due to my Extremis body heat, there were some… _practical_ concerns to consider.

Now that her own Extremis enhancement had enhanced her to the point that she was looking like a supermodel though…

Sue me, I'm a healthy young male in the prime of his life, with one of his closest female friends being ridiculously hot, of course I'm going to get a bit… _exited._

Still, I hadn't made any serious moves towards her because, well, I wasn't sure that I should.

My weird ass origins aside (as well as the fact that I just plain didn't know how to talk to women in _that_ way) Jessica was still my employee first and foremost, and it might be inappropriate if she starts sleeping with her boss.

Also, did I really want to tie myself down to this reality in a romantic fashion?

Sure I had made connections here, even if most of them had been made in the past year, and if I was suddenly presented with a way home tomorrow, I'd be sad to leave them behind (if I was to leave at all…) but still, a _relationship_?

That was a whole different ballpark entirely.

However, when I raised these concerns (edited in order to leave my extra-dimensionality out of it of course) to Sterns and Harper as we were sipping drinks in my luxurious office (I had finally caved and allowed Jessica to decorate the thing, and thankfully she kept it classy, with warm, dark tones, and subtle golden highlights, somewhat reflecting the grand entrance hall below) both shared a look, before bursting out in laughter.

Well, Sterns did.

Harper just sort of chuckled and gave a shake of his head.

"The hell is so fucking funny?" I growl deeply, taking care to not crush the glass with fine Limoncello in it as I lean forwards.

Sure, Sterns was my friend, and Harper, as dependable and steady as he had shown himself to be, had somehow found himself in a similar category, but opening up like this was still hard, and being laughed at certainly pissed me off.

"Look, I'm not exactly sure I'm the guy you should come to regarding girl problems-… actually, why _did_ you come to me?"

"You're my closest friend." I admit with a shrug, pretending not to see Sterns beam with pride at my statement, before the egghead points over at Harper with his thumb.

"And him?"

Looking up from my glass, I glance between Sterns and Harper a couple of times, before I shrug again.

"He's old."

 _That_ finally draws some expression onto Harper's face (only a disgruntled frown though, but I'll take it) even as Sterns laughs out loud again.

As the scientist calms down into mirthful chuckles, he turns back towards me again.

"Look, Michael. When a woman shows interest in you as you're describing Jessica is showing, it doesn't automatically mean that she wants a _relationship_. She might just want to… experiment a bit. Maybe just go for some casual sex. Jessica is her own woman, Michael, she can make such decisions for herself. You don't have to agonize about your interactions with each other in the future as long as you're sure that she's willing."

I frown at Sterns' words, so Harper jumps in with his own two cents of wisdom.

"Look sir, I've known women like Miss Jones. They get something in their head, a goal, a career, or just plain sex, they go for it, no regrets. Just make sure you're her friend, that she has a good time, and all will turn out alright in the end. Maybe it ends up being a one-time thing. Maybe you end up _special_ friends. Maybe you two fall in love, get married, sell Othrys and buy a house with a white picket fence and have lots of terrifying little mini-monsters together. _Maybe_. And all that, and more, will always remain a maybe for the rest of your life, until you actually go over to her and _try_." The aged veteran says in his rough voice, his eyes distant.

I glance at the soldier with a calculating gaze, before Sterns takes my glass from my hand with an impatient look on his face. It takes a few seconds before I catch onto his meaning.

"What, _now_?!"

"Yes, _now_! C'mon, get over there!"

Which is why at half past eleven in the evening of March 28th I found myself in front of Jessica Jones' room with a bottle of wine in my hand and a lump in my throat. Clearing it nervously (and mentally cussing out Phineas, who I just _know_ is watching the hallway right now and laughing his non-existent head off), I raise my hand and rap sharply on the smooth wood of her door.

"Who is it?!" I can hear her yell from her bedroom, and once again clearing my throat, I speak up.

"It's me! Uhh, Michael!"

For a moment, I can't hear anything, before the sounds of rapid footsteps ring out from behind the door, and then there she is in the door opening, standing in an oversized shirt which just barely comes to her hips (which does… _interesting_ things to my composure), looking from my nervous expression to the bottle of wine in my hands.

And then she grins.

"Fucking finally."

And before my brain has had a chance to reboot, I'm bodily pulled into Jessica's room, her door clicking shut behind me.

' _I should give Sterns a raise.'_

That's the last coherent thought I have that night.

* * *

 **April 3rd**

I spent roughly a week back at Othrys, just taking it easy for a while as my Winter Soldiers tracked down their respective targets while I continued my lessons and magical testing with Pangborn and Hansen, whenever the scientist found the time, that is. During that week off, me and Jessica had quite a few more… nightly encounters.

Thankfully, our daily interactions remained mostly the same, though neither one of us tried to hide the fact that we were now sleeping together (we didn't advertise it or anything, but we didn't really bother with the Walk of Shame when we spent our nights at the other's room).

The reaction of the other inhabitants of Othrys were surprisingly positive, with people either not really caring or being happy for us (Harper, of course, was one of those who didn't seem to care, whereas Sterns was annoyingly proud of being the one to ' _finally_ ' give me the final push).

Even more surprising than that though, was the somewhat disappointed reaction from some of my other female employees.

Nope.

Nu-uh.

Not touching that with a ten foot pole.

I won't even _try_ and imagine the terrible horrors that Jessica would unleash upon me if I were to start sleeping around with other women as well, and she found out about it, even if we were keeping things casual at the moment.

I quite like all my bits attached to me, thank-you-very-much.

During that week Sterns had finally managed to crack the Pym Particles to the point that it would resize even humans without adverse effects, and I had immediately contacted Cross with the good news.

He was absolutely floored that we've been able to crack it so quickly, and he was nearly falling over his feet in pushing some of the other projects that Cross Technologies was struggling with our way. I declined most of them for now, though I promised him that Titan Solutions was more than happy to repeat a similar partnership in the future, with my personal top lawyer already hammering out deals that would keep money flowing into my pockets in the future.

Hogarth's business savvy and the smaller inventions that my scientists kept inventing just in order to do their jobs more efficiently (a new manner of data-sharing, for instance, which Burstein had developed just so that he didn't have to get up from his computer whenever he tried to work on differing projects, had the potential to revolutionize the tech industry, if marketed right) meant that I was currently swimming in more money that I really knew what to do with.

Sure, building Othrys had put a _massive_ dent in my funds, but my deals with Verizon and AT&T had easily filled that back up again. I almost had China Mobile Ltd. as well, but Stark swooped in with an entirely new satellite system which he sold to them, using pre-existing contacts that I hadn't even known that he possessed.

That was actually becoming the song and dance of the tech rivalry between our companies.

Titan Solutions was truly revolutionary, nobody could deny that anymore, not even Stark's staunchest supporters. But whenever big companies started flocking towards the new tech, Tony pulled something equally innovative out of his ass, and by using Stark Industries longstanding reputation and established connections, always managed to net the truly big whales that I had been hoping to get for myself.

That wasn't to say that he was just playing catch-up though. In a brilliant move, he had vowed to start fixing America's abysmal roads before I had even managed to start putting out feelers into the construction world, and it was only because I focused on a different aspect (the exo-suits I had Adrian's company use, as well as a cheaper, far inferior knock-off of ferrocrete) meant that I had been able to steal some of the really big companies away from his camp.

Still, I was happy to let Hogarth deal with _that_ aspect of my life, while I concentrated on collecting ancient powerful artifacts in order to get ever closer to godhood, and she was doing a damned fine job of it too.

With the Pym Particles basically done, I had expected Sterns to whip out something else, but to my surprise he kept on being engrossed in Hank Pym's masterpiece. When I asked him about it, he told me that the Particles were just scratching the surface.

"Shrinking is all well and good, but at its basic principles, these Particles are interacting with the Quantum Realm _somehow_. Quantum, Michael! Even to me, that stuff is weird! I love it!"

After extracting a promise from my friend that he wouldn't inadvertently shrink himself to the mind-breaking universe (retrieving him _could_ be done, but it would be an enormous pain in the ass, not to mention the fact that, if I weren't bald, I would probably go gray from worry in the meantime), I left Sterns to his own devices as he played around with Quantum Mechanics.

Worries about the egghead were pushed from my mind, however, when the Winter Soldiers returned to the agreed upon rendezvous, which was the base I had found them in (even as morally flexible as some of my employees were, and despite the fact that each and every Winter Soldier was a mass murdering Nazi psychopath, after news of Kilgrave's actions spread through Othrys, most of them had found that the idea of mind control left a bad taste in their mouths, so I made sure to never bring the Winter Soldiers close to my base).

They had retrieved two things I couldn't even begin to guess what their function was, one amulet of sorts, one straight pole thing that I was fairly sure was a weapon or something, and finally the grand prize.

A diviner.

I ordered them back into cryo, took the various Kree artifacts back to Othrys, teleported to Radcliffe's laboratory in the outskirts of the Kree City (startling Skye so badly she tazed me. She blushed like mad at the utterly flat look I sent her as I slowly plucked the sparking wires from my the bridge of my nose) handed the Diviner over to Radcliffe, and then teleported back towards Europe.

There was just one last item that I wanted to get, which was scattered in several countries, the last one that I wanted to visit being Spain, where there were two people that I wanted to talk to.

The first country that I went to was Ireland, stepping out into the small garden behind a certain church in the middle of the night, the street lights providing ample illumination. I wanted to make sure that the premises were abandoned before I started searching for the first piece of the Beserker staff, which is why I hadn't teleported straight inside.

I strained my senses to the limit, and when I didn't hear, see, smell or sense anyone, I moved my hands in intricate patterns, calling a cradle of light into being in between my palms. Various glowing circles spun rapidly within ever-changing rectangles, and after studying the glyphs intently for a few moments, I saw that the spell (which would reveal the location of nearby sentient beings) didn't pick up anything in the vicinity.

Quickly flying up to the bell tower, I managed to make my way inside, easily breaking the padlock that had kept the trapdoor shut. Once inside the darkened church, I immediately started to make my way towards where the bit of the Berserker staff was kept, which was inside a small wooden safe, mounted on the wall and out of the way.

Hiding in plain sight.

Again, the lock on it didn't even give me a moment's pause, but I did hesitate for a moment when I finally looked at the smooth metallic surface of the Asgardian weapon.

I had come to a pretty good understanding with the darker side of me, and I possessed a body that could more easily handle the strain of the mystic weapon than a human would. In theory, I should be relatively fine when wielding the ancient artefact.

Still though…

Eventually I forced myself to stop dicking around, and reached out in a flash, my enormous hand closing over the smooth grip of the Berserker Staff, the mythical weapon immediately lighting up in a plethora of Nordic looking runes.

The moment my skin made contact with the weapon, adrenaline _slammed_ into my body, kicking my Extremis into overdrive, the glow of my veins matching the glowing runes on the weapon. Deep inside my mind, no, my very _soul_ , I felt that darker side of me roar to life with a snarl.

But I was still in control.

I was angry, ridiculously so, while I could feel the more beastly side of me was getting stronger by the minute.

But there was no conflict between my instincts and my will. I had made peace with myself, body and soul, during Bast's trials, and compared to that ordeal, the efforts of the Staff to try and drag my worst memories and burning hatred to the foreground of my thoughts were almost laughable.

Focusing my chi to flow through my hand, enveloping the Staff in a soft golden glow, I felt the tempest that had been raging inside my mind start to slowly settle down, though it wasn't gone, that thirst for battle still _very_ prominently in my thoughts.

But I was steadily calming down, becoming more and more focused as the burning hatred invoked by the Staff was shackled by my will and turned into calculating anger instead.

Something that I could use.

I could tell that I was now stronger than ever before, but I wasn't sure just how much stronger I had become, and I'd have to return to the fortified testing facilities of Othrys if I want to find out.

Still, I'm not done yet.

There are still the remaining parts of the Staff to collect, after all.

In order to give myself a bit more focus (it's not as if I'm about to do battle any time soon anyways), I place the piece of the Staff inside a duffelbag I had brought along, before I concentrated on casting a portal.

Stepping through the glowing tear in the fabric of space, I emerge in a heavily forested area. I'm currently deep in the woods of Trillemarka National Park, Norway, where the Warrior Who Stayed his a part of his Staff inside one of the legion of trees surrounding me.

Thankfully, searching for a needle in a haystack can be very easy if you do it right.

All you need is a magnet.

Reaching into the duffelbag that I had slung around my shoulder, I take out the broken piece of ancient metal, controlling the wave of hatred and rage far easier now that I know what to expect.

Holding the Berserker weapon in one hand, I close my eyes as I lift my other one, a magical array of eldritch energy springing to life around it. It's not even a proper spell, really, more a question of intent.

I'm searching the woods around me for an energy signature similar to the piece of the Staff I'm currently holding in my other hand. In principle, it worked somewhat similar to Sterns' Spectrometer, which is why I had brought the device along should my Mystic skills prove insufficient.

Still, never skip Magic-training day, is my motto, and I always try to first try things with Magic, before I solve my problems with my tech.

Or my fists, if the need arises.

Thankfully, Hansen's (and mine) research into the fundamentals of channeling energy and bending it towards your will for a certain desired purpose has paid off, since my barebones bit of 'coding', as the Ancient One occasionally calls it, does it work perfectly.

An exact match to the energy signature in my hand, a hundred feet away to my right, and roughly twenty feet up.

Quite a climb, especially for humans about a thousand years ago, which explains why the Warrior thought it was an adequate hiding place.

I fly over towards the location of the second piece in a matter of moments, rustling leaves in my wake as I spot the enormous tree standing in a clearing, a circle of ancient stones surrounding it.

Since the centuries that the Asgardian warrior had left his weapon here, the old tree has grown around the metal, consuming it completely. Thankfully, my strength allows me to crack the trunk of the tree open like an egg, the dry wood splintering with a thunderous ' _crack!'_ which echoes throughout the forest.

And right there in the middle, exposed to the open air for the first time in centuries, lies the second piece of the Berserker staff. Without hesitation, my hand closes around it's runed surface, the ancient inscriptions lighting up with a hellish glow as I do.

Once again, a tidal wave of rage crashes over me, my darkest memories – _a knife slipping into a throat, blood splattering the faceplate of my helmet_ \- being brought to the fore.

Once again, I master myself, shunting the hate down and chaining it, bringing it under my control.

Taking the other piece of the Staff, I hold their broken edges against each other, twisting them a bit until I feel the grooves and notches of the breaks slide smoothly into place, like finishing a puzzle.

Almost immediately, the Asgardian weapon flares with light and power, and the two halves are joined together flawlessly, as if they had never been broken at all.

One piece now remains.

Straightening myself, I place the nearly complete weapon back into the duffelbag as I focus intently on creating another portal, my concentration growing stronger as the haze of mindless anger slowly subsides.

And with but a step, I leave Norway, and arrive in Spain.

Portals. Are. _Bullshit_.

Standing on the Plaza del Salvador (or more accurately, floating about a mile above it, since I didn't want to draw any attention to myself with the glow of the portal), I gaze down at _Iglesio el Salvador_ , the impressive cathedral appearing imposing and mysterious in the various city lights of Seville. Still, as beautiful as the church is, I'm more interested in what lies underneath it, specifically the Roman tombs hidden away there.

Finding my way inside the church is just as easy as entering the church back in Ireland was, and once inside, I find that all that's standing between me and the final piece of my new weapon is a slim, wrought-iron gate.

Sending a mental apology to the clergy that works here, I easily break the lock, and stride into the cloying darkness of the ancient catacombs.

Once again I take the Staff outside the bag, using its energy signature to home in on the remaining piece, my enormous size meaning that I'm constantly bumping my head against the low hanging ceiling as I make my way down the winding passage ways, sometimes even being forced to duck in order to fit through some of the smaller ones.

Still, after more than five minutes, I can feel a very strong signature resonating from my left, and as I sharply turn in that direction, I find myself looking at a… tomb.

Of fucking course.

Giving a sigh (and a silent prayer to the deceased, just in case) I grab the top of the stone coffin, dragging it hallway out of its alcove in order to better reach it. Shoving the solid stone lid off is a piece of cake, and as I wave away the dust that springs up as I remove it, I can finally see the final piece.

Clutched in the skeletal claws of the coffin's long-time occupant.

Swallowing down my slight revulsion, I gently pry apart the mummified fingers, and take the last piece of the Staff from its hiding place. Since standing in the absolute darkness surrounded by skeletons is starting to give me the creeps, I quickly exit the church, flying up into the night sky with a grateful gulp of air, reveling in the lack of claustrophobic confinement as I soar free as a bird.

Calming down a bit, I place the broken tip of the Berserker Staff onto its brethren, and just like before, once the grooves and scratches line up with each other, the two parts fuse together seamlessly, the entire weapon now lighting up in glowing runes and swooping lines.

The tidal wave of rage is not only stronger now than before, I can tell it's more complete as well. It doesn't just slam adrenaline into my body, putting its fight-or-flight response into overdrive, its working on a deeper, more magical level as well.

It's not just trying to make me angry, it's trying to make me completely lose my shit, to become a rampaging monster literally too angry to think about ways to counteract and control my own rage.

My respect for Agent May's and Elliot Randolph, for not just wielding the damned thing, but actually summoning the willpower to let go of it as well, coming out of the experience relatively unscathed (though I now understand Randolph's vow of complete pacifism a lot better now. Wielding this thing, waging war with it… it's going to leave scars, even on Asgardian warriors).

Speaking of the good Mr. Randolph…

* * *

 **April 4th**

After spending the rest of the night high up in the air above the Atlantic Ocean (though making sure I was well below the flight paths of any possible airlines) trying to master both myself and the Berserker Staff, I returned to Seville the next day, having found Randolph's lesson plan online.

Since I knew that stealth was out of the question if I were to visit him at Seville University (there _were_ spells for concealment and infiltration, but that was much too refined for me to attempt with any real confidence for now), I decided to wait until late in the evening, knowing when Randolph would return to his home off-campus.

Sure enough, around half past seven pm, the disguised Asgardian warrior leisurely made his way towards his car, throwing a jaunty wave to a rather pretty student that had accompanied him to the unassuming vehicle.

Still a few miles off the ground, I began to easily tail the professor as he made his way home, floating along almost bored. Since I could just fly in a straight line, without traffic lights, pedestrians or other vehicles in my way, I had to slow down significantly in order to keep up with the University professor, who was visibly getting annoyed as he was forced to deal with aforementioned obstacles.

Still, after an uneventful twenty minutes, we arrived at his residence (I could've flown here straight away of course, but since Randolph is a bit of a hedonist, there was every chance that he might have had something planned for tonight, which didn't involve sleeping at his place), and the Asgardian quickly made his way inside.

I waited for a couple of minutes in order to appear _less_ suspicious (I was a renowned superhuman and successful business man from New York, me appearing on the doorstep of a Professor of Nordic Mythology would be suspicious anyway), before I dropped down in a nearby alleyway, and then I quickly crossed the street and knocked on the Warrior's door.

After a few moments I could hear footsteps approaching, and then Elliot Randolph, known in a distant past as the Warrior Who Stayed opened the door, glancing up at me with surprise clear in his eyes.

"You?"

"Good evening, Mr. Randolph. Might I come in please?"

For a moment, the Asgardian is completely flatfooted, before he regains his composure and gives me a quick nod.

"Of course, of course. Come in, make yourself at home!"

As I step over the Asgardian's threshold I'm surprised to find… well, that there's nothing really to find. I had half-expected to feel some powerful ward scheme's surrounding the doorway, or for some mystical artefacts to be placed on coffee tables or something.

But the house I step into is just about as mundane as you can imagine, the picture perfect example of an intellectual's home, with cozy furniture, and books scattered everywhere.

If it weren't for my meta-knowledge, I would never have guessed that this was the home of an alien warrior.

Which was precisely the point, I suppose.

"Do you want some coffee? Thee perhaps?" Randolph asks, and if it weren't for the miniscule micro-expressions I can spot, I would've thought that the man was completely calm.

"Just water is fine, thank you." I reply in a soft tone as I make my way over to the couch in the living room, while Randolph goes off towards the kitchen to fix me my drink.

"I have to say, I'm quite surprised to find you here, Mr. McCole, especially unannounced and at this hour. May I ask what brought you-" Randolph's words die in his throat when he returns to the living room, his eyes falling on the complete Berserker Staff in my hands, the glow of its sigils lighting up the room.

"Well, I stumbled over this _fascinating_ little thing here, you see, and I found myself wanting an expert's opinion on it. Hence why I approached you." I say with a calm voice as I rise from the couch, absolutely towering over the diminutive Professor.

As a testament to his history as part of Asgard's elite fighting force, he doesn't show a hint of fear at being confronted with the first man in millennia who can probably beat him in a straight up fight, especially since I'm wielding the Staff, raw energy coursing through me.

However, I can also see the visible effort he puts into not reacting to the threat I present to him, forcing his body to not fall into a reflexive combat stance, his arms still loose and his guard wide open.

Randolph takes his vow of pacifisms dead serious, and I just now that even if I were to attack him now with deadly force, he won't fight back against me.

I can respect such an iron conviction.

°Well, I'm happy to lend my expertise on examining a piece of history I had always thought was merely part of myth and legend. Though, if I may ask, how _exactly_ , did you… _stumble_ over this artefact? The legends say that the Staff was broken in three pieces and expertly hidden, lost to the world lest its dark powers fall into the wrong hands." Randolph asks in a neutral tone of voice, still trying to keep up appearances.

Let's put a stop to that, shall we?

"Expertly hidden you say? I find myself doubting the Warrior's sense of judgement if that's the case. The pieces were easy to find, especially if you knew what to look for and where, and they were completely unprotected. Add in the debacle of the Tesseract, and I have to ask myself whether Asgardians as a people are simply incapable of hiding valuable artefacts." I rumble in dark amusement as I approach the former Berserker, who cannot quite contain a slight bristle at my mocking words.

"The fact that the pieces remained hidden for well over a millennium begs to differ, I think." The Professor says sharply, and I clamp down on the anger that's been singing in my veins ever since I assembled the Staff.

I want to befriend this Asgardian, or at least turn him into my ally, not alienate him against me.

"Fair enough. Tell me about them." I say with a tilt of my head, drawing a surprised look from Randolph.

"Tell you about them? Who?"

"Asgardians."

"You want me to tell you about Asgardians? Why?"

"Well, ever since a certain hammer fell from the sky in New Mexico, I've been rather interested in the Nordic Pantheon, and you are _definitely_ the world's leading expert on that subject. So, tell me about them."

Running a hand through his thinning curls, Randolph gives me an inquisitive look.

"Well, what exactly would you want to know?"

"Everything you're willing to tell me."

For a moment, indecision wars in the Asgardian's eyes, as they flicker from my calm face to the burning weapon in my hands and back. Eventually he seems to decide that keeping me in engaged in conversation is preferable to leaving me to my own devices with an emotion-influencing ancient weapon and he takes a seat in the nearest chair with a sigh, as I sit down on the couch in front of him.

"Well, if you want to know _everything_ about the Asgardians, I suppose it's best to start at the beginning. You see, once there was the void, and from the void came two realms…"

I kept Randolph talking all through the night, not having to fake my interest in the slightest as I learned small and intricate details of Thor's world that had never even been touched upon in the movies or shows. Their more obscure customs, the tales they told each other, their dreams and fears.

Oh there were the big things of course, the wars and conquests and peacekeeping (I didn't ask the Warrior about Hela, since I felt that that would both be a bit of a sore subject, and I had the feeling merely uttering her name would cause Heimdall's vision to snap in my direction), but the _really_ interesting things were much smaller and mundane.

Did you know that there are no less than _250_ different hairstyles for men and women in Asgardian culture, each one representing something different, from just a general mood, to a certain fashion, to even showcasing your marital status?

I hadn't until that night.

After talking for hours on end about his people, eventually unable (or just uncaring) about hiding his plain to see nostalgia as he thought about long lost friends and family, I could tell that the ex-Berserker was starting to warm up to me, though he kept giving the Staff long considering glances.

Eventually, as the first lights of the new day slowly started to enter his living room, I decided to finally make my move.

"Fascinating. Truly fascinating. Asgardian culture is both so _old_ and yet so advanced, the dichotomy it creates and the culture that forms from it… thank you for your impromptu lecture, Professor Randolph. I'm _very_ interested in learning more about these interesting people, so might I make you an offer?" I speak up as the Warrior takes a short brake in order to drown his glass of water, his throat somewhat tired from speaking all through the night.

"You may certainly make me an offer. Whether I'll accept or not is another matter entirely."

"I want you to come back to Othrys with me."

 _That_ certainly gets his attention, as he sits up straighter in his chair, fixing me with a sharp look.

"And why would I want to involve myself any further with your hectic life? I'm quite content with my job at the University here, the food is nice, the women are good looking and the weather is almost always pleasant. Why would I walk away from that?"

"Because Asgard's eye will soon return to Midgard, and I don't think you'll want them taking a look around and recognizing a certain Professor at a certain University." I say bluntly, drawing a sigh from the other man.

"So, we're done pretending that you don't already know who I am then. Look kid, a thousand years ago, I went AWOL from one of the most bloodthirsty forces in Asgard's employ. And during all that time, I kept my head down, stayed out of trouble, and lived a life of piece, and Asgard's Watcher either never noticed me, or just thought I wasn't worth the bother anymore. Why would I jeopardize that?"

"Like I said, in the not too distant future, Asgard will gain a vested interest in Earth and I can guarantee you, you won't be able to go unnoticed then, not when you're surrounded by mundane humans as you are now. But in Othrys? You could stand in full battle armor on my front lawn roaring a battlecry to the heavens and they wouldn't even bother to look in your direction, since they would be too busy staring at my fire-breathing T-Rex. Besides, I offer luxurious room and board, and the latest Midgardian technologies will be at your disposal. You can either see it as a long holiday, or you can actually work there. We're currently researching and testing various branches of Magic, you're input would be immensely valuable." I press on, and I can see that Randolph's starting to get tempted.

"I'm not that familiar with magic myself kid. I was a mason before I joined the army, and my Staff was just handed to me, I don't know how it works, just what it does. You really are studying magic? You might already know more than me." The professor scoffs, and with a grin, I stand up from the couch, my massive form looming over him, the staff held loosely in my hand.

As I focus, I start channeling energy through the staff, making the glyphs inscribed upon it glow even brighter, until the light it's giving off is nearly blinding. And then I use the tip to draw a circle in the air, a glowing, sparking line following my movements.

And just like that, a portal to North Brother Island, New York is opened in the living room of Professor Randolph.

Turning to look at him over my shoulder, I give him a challenging grin.

"Care to find out?"

For a few very long, tense moments, the ex-Berserker remains seated in his arm chair, a thoughtful look on his face as he keeps looking between his old Staff and the portal I just made.

Eventually, he lets out a massive grin and rises from his chair with a spring in his step, fearlessly approaching the portal as he rubs his hands in excitement.

"Well what are we waiting for? You had a fire-breathing dinosaur, you said?"

And just like that, Othrys is host to its first Asgardian.

* * *

 **April 6th**

Since I hadn't slept for two days ever since I set out to collect both the Berserker Staff, and her original wielder, I decided to go to bed after getting Randolph sorted. Sleeping for a whopping six hours (twice as long as I usually slept) left me fully energized and I set out to finally fulfill a promise I had made to one of my co-workers, leaving Randolph in Hansen's hands (the Asgardian immediately began flirting with the pretty scientist of course), once again teleporting to Spain.

This time I went to Caldes de Montbui, to a residential area in the old city center where Agnes Kitsworth lived, the woman who Radcliffe loved but couldn't fix. Walking around in broad daylight in a city in Spain when just that morning I had been in New York was rather conspicuous, but I had promised Radcliffe that I would see to this personally, and the scientist was far too valuable me to alienate by not backing up my promises to him.

Which is why I smiled brightly when Agnes herself opened the door after I had found her address.

"Mrs. Kitsworth? I'm here on behalf of someone who really want to meet you. Holden Radcliffe apologizes for everything that he has done to push the two of you apart, and he has asked me to ask whether or not you're willing to hear him out. He said that if you don't want to see or speak to him again, he'll understand and respect your decision."

For a moment, the woman merely blinks in surprise at my torrent of information, before she narrows her eyes.

"If Holden's so damned sorry, then why did he send you? Couldn't he be bothered to come in person?"

"At the moment, he's working on a crucial project for me, though I have given him permission to take time of if you are willing to meet with him. He's waiting for you now, I can take you to him if you want so that he can explain everything?" I offer, and Agnes takes quite a while to decide whether or not she'll accept, or if she'll slam the door in my face.

Finally, she gives out a long sigh as she steps out of her house, closing the door behind her and turning towards me with her hands on her hips, a stern look on her face.

"Alright then, where is her?"

"If you'll just hold on Miss, this will only take a moment."

And without ceremony, I scoop the lithe woman up in my arms, ignoring her startled squeak which turns into a frightened scream when I shoot up towards the sky. Before the air can become too cold for the dying woman, I come to a halt, making a circle with my hands as best I can as I'm holding onto her.

"What are you-"

That's as far as she gets, her eyes going wide as her mouth falls open when she sees the portal hanging in midair in front of her. She briefly flinches when I make my way through, but her shock turns into awe when we arrive on the far outskirts of San Juan in Puerto Rico, the sun here just cresting the horizon, throwing the stunning landscape in beautiful golden colors.

She's so absorbed with her surroundings, she doesn't even notice that we're descending, and it takes Holden a couple of discreet coughs before she sees him standing somewhat sheepishly next to a pick nick blanket.

"Surprise?" the scientist tentatively tries, and Agnes doesn't respond at first, appearing completely floored by this roller coaster of events.

Then, without a word, she walks up really close to a surprised Radcliffe, leans in close and-

SMACK!

-slaps him across the face.

For a moment, everything is silent, before Holden turns back towards his fuming girlfriend, rubbing a glowing red cheek.

"Fair enough, I probably deserved that one."

"Start talking. _Now_."

Realizing that my task here is done, I discreetly back off from the couple as Holden begins to pour his heart out to the woman, floating up and quickly stepping through a portal, back towards Othrys.

There's an Asgardian who's brain I want to pick, an ancient weapon I want to train with, a Celestial's flesh I want to study and incorporate into myself, Inhuman and Kree powers that I need to pilfer, and Magic that I need to learn.

So much to do, so little time.

At least my evenings tend to be a lot more enjoyable than they used to be.

* * *

 **May 3rd**

"God I fucking hate this dress. It's so uncomfortable."

"I think it makes you look pretty."

"I said that I was _uncomfortable_ , Michael, not that I was ugly."

"I know. Still think you look amazing in a dress though."

"Well, look all you want now buster, after tonight it's back to jeans and leather jackets for me, thank fucking God."

"You say that now, but I just now that Skye's going to take one look at you right now, and then drag you off to a shopping spree once a month."

"Skye? Clearly you don't know her as well as I do, the girl hates dresses and fancy shit as much as I do! That's what I like about her!"

"She couldn't _afford_ fancy shit, Jess. She lived out of a _van_ for crying out loud! Now she's got a big fat pay-check and basically lives in a magical castle. Of course she's going to go on a shopping spree sooner or later, she already went on one to assemble her workspace with all those goddamn laptops she started ordering like crazy."

"Oh just shut up and hand me another champagne will you?"

"Yes dear."

And with a smile on my face, I turned away from the smoking hot Jessica Jones in a tight red dress, halting a waiter that was about to pass me by, the youth paling somewhat as he cranes his neck in order to look me in my glowing eyes.

"Bitte. Wir hätten gerne noch einen Champagner?" ( _Excuse me. We would like another Champagne?_ )

Before the boy can nod and be off, Jessica speaks up from around me, leaning forwards slightly and exposing a generous amount of cleavage as she does so, which causes an impressive blush to appear on the youth (and reflexively, for a low growl to come from deep within my chest).

"Bring uns einfach die ganze Flasche mit." ( _Just bring us the entire bottle._ )

As the boy nods again and quickly leaves (I think my audible anger at his staring scared him quite a bit) I turn towards my date for the evening with a raised eyebrow, to which Jessica simply shrugs.

"We've been in Stuttgart for two days now, the Brain Booster allows me to pick things up easy enough. German isn't _that_ difficult to learn anyways."

Grinning at her, I can't help myself and lean in to steal a quick kiss, which clearly takes her by surprise, though she quickly reciprocates with equal enthusiasm. As we separate, she gives me a searching look, though a slight smile is playing around her lips.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Nothing in particular. I was just thinking about how lucky I am to be with someone _that_ beautiful, and _that_ smart. And they're even the same person!"

Playfully elbowing me in the side (a baseline human would've been thrown clear across the ballroom) Jessica rolls her eyes at my joke, since she knows that as far as I'm concerned, she has absolutely no competition.

While what we had at the end of March when we first started sleeping together was very much a casual thing between good friends, whatever we have now is definitely more than that, even if we have yet to really discuss just what our relationship is at this point.

I do know one thing though.

I'm starting to fall head over heels in love with Jessica Jones, probably the most abrasive woman in fiction.

It seems that my life just keeps on getting weirder.

The boy from before is back quite quickly with a bottle of Champagne in hand (though he's careful to keep his eyes from wandering this time. I approve) and as I take the drink from him, I start filling up my date's glass.

Just as I've finished doing that however, right as I want to fill my own glass as well, I can see my target for tonight moving in the back of the room over Jessica's shoulder. Placing my empty glass on the table next to us, I snatch Jessica's Champagne from her hands right as she's about to drink from it.

"Hey! What gives?"

In response to her indignant growl, I step closer to her, and give a significant nod in the direction my target has just walked out of the room.

"Our victim is here. Time to get into action."

"Really? _Now_? We just ordered Champagne!" Jessica says with a bit of a whine, and I can't quite keep the amusement I feel from showing on my face as I look down at her forlorn expression.

"Well, we can always dance in the meantime, until the moment arrives where we can take him down."

"Wait, dance? What-"

But I cut her off by simply grabbing her by the middle and swerving my way onto the dance floor of the ballroom, easily stepping into the rhythm of the waltz that had been playing in the background, performed by a live orchestra, of course.

As I guide Jessica across the floor she keeps scowling at me, and I'm convinced that some of her stumbling is faked, just so that she can stomp on my feet a couple of times.

"I don't do _dancing_ , Michael!" she hisses at me, but I've known her well and long enough by know that I can tell from the look in her eyes that's she's grudgingly enjoying herself.

So I just spin her around once more, before catching her in my arms again and taking off across the dance floor, my face split by a massive grin.

"I thought that you said that with the Brain Booster you picked up stuff easy enough?" I tease, and though she mock-scowls at me, she can't deny the fact that what I'm saying is true.

Already, her movements are smoother than before, and after another two rounds across the dancefloor, she's dancing as well and as natural as I am, our movements in perfect sync to the beat of the music.

As we twirl underneath a massive chandelier, her in a beautiful dress, me in a sharp tuxedo, we look into each other's eyes, smile and-

"Now."

-at Jessica's mark, we use the momentum of our latest twirl to move off the dancefloor completely, instead now standing several feet away, barring the path of a young man with slicked back black hair and a cane in his hand.

The man looks up in surprise as I'm suddenly standing before him, but to his credit, his hand immediately shoots out towards the cane that he had been twirling around and that was now hanging suspended in mid-air.

I'm faster.

My hand closes around the smooth golden metal and I immediately draw back my arm and throw it further into the building, where it punches straight through a support pillar and ends up burying itself into the far wall.

"Babe."

"On it!"

And with a blur, Jessica's now standing next to the disguised spear, and with a heave rips it straight out of the wall, great chunks of concrete falling away with it. Another blur, and she's gone from the premises completely, heading towards our rendezvous.

The young looking man turns back towards me with a murderous scowl, showcasing impressive senses and reflexes if he was capable of following all that, the edges of his form already flickering with golden light.

He opens his mouth, probably to threaten me, or maybe to monologue, but once again the element of surprise allows me to be faster.

"Loki Laufeyson. I don't believe you have an invite to this party. We can't have that now, can we?"

And with that, I perform my most audacious act since I have woken up in this universe more than twenty years ago.

I punch a god in the face.

* * *

 **AN:** I am so terribly sorry that it took so long to get this out. I am extremely unhappy with it, and every single part of it was rewritten between three to five times individually, meaning that there are literally hundreds of different versions of this chapter in the end. Like I said, not too happy with it, and the second part especially is complete crap, but I'm absolutely exhausted. Feel free to give me your critiques and I'll get started on the rewrite this week. University has started again though, so my update speed will definitely be dialed back a bit. As much as I love writing, it still takes a backseat to my studying and this year will be the toughest one yet. About the whole Jessica thing, I hope her altered appearance doesn't come across as an ass-pull or wish fullfilment. I tried to give a somewhat believable explanation as to why Michael would suddenly feel any physical attraction towards her (because I was steadily coming around to the idea of those two ending up together) and an Extremis transformation a la Steve Rogers to Captain America felt like it might fit. I dunno, let me know your thoughts.

 **Fun Fact:** The scene in Captain America, the First Avenger, where Peggy Carter reaches out to touch the glistening pec of a recently transformed Steve Rogers wasn't scripted. Hayley Atwell, who portrays Carter, hadn't seen Chris shirtless before, and one set, during the shooting of the scene, she couldn't help herself and gave the good Captain a little squeeze. Joe Johnston, the director of the movie, felt that it fit in the scene, so cast and crew just rolled with it, though you can see a few people in the background break character for a bit.

 _As I do at the end of every chapter, I want to extend my thanks to my amazing Patrons, AndrewDC_MAC2, Miu, justlovereadin, Carn Krauss, ReapeScythe, Thordur hrafn and Daniel Dorfman! You have all of my thanks, I cannot believe the monumental amounts of support you guys are giving me, thanks so much!_


	31. Interlude 7 (by SIDoragon)

**AN:** Once again SIDoragon's has written an amazing Interlude, I hope you guys enjoy! As for the next chapter, it's going to take a while (hopefully not as long as last time) since I'm busy with uni, writing my own novel Promised Fields of Albi, as well as a comission piece for one of my Pa Trons. Still, never fear! I'm definitely not abandoning the story, so no worries, the next chapter _will_ come, it just might take a little while :)

* * *

 ** _A Kill, but no Grave_**

 _March 15th, 2012_

 **Ram Island, Long Island, New York**

If was ten minutes past midnight when Angel Hartford stepped from the entrance of the main house. The weather was just as forecast, light winds sweeping off the ocean, cooling the night to a chilly forty-eight degrees.

' _Perfect_ ,' the drug lord thought, staring out at the vast empty tree line in the distance. He didn't expect any trouble out here, which is why he had bought the place all those years ago. It made it easier for his friends to the north to move product into the city, and since he was the only home for miles he didn't have to worry about noisy neighbors.

Two more men flanked him, normally his bodyguards, both of whom carried semiautomatic pistols holstered on their hips. They used to work for him, but that stopped being the case when the Boss showed up yesterday. Now he and everyone else worked for him.

Hartford took another deep breath of the fresh ocean breeze, letting it soak into him. Another forty-eight hours and the deal would have been complete. A great way to get everything back on track after the chaotic hell New York had turned into for the past week. Nothing would have stopped him from getting all he wanted. And then the new Boss showed up at the door.

' _Not a bad way to go_ ,' he supposed. His new boss wasn't forgiving, and this was to be his punishment.

The Boss, Kilgrave, walked into the house earlier today during a party and simply told everyone to shut up. No one could even consider doing otherwise. A few of the girls were picked and he took them upstairs, while everyone else was ordered to stay where they were and not move or make a sound. As the hours went on the room began to smell of piss and shit, a few of the others passed out, but none moved or spoke.

He didn't know how long it had been since the boss showed up, but it was dark when Kilgrave came back downstairs and said he was hungry. Then he smelled us. The man had made a face, displeasure clear, and all of us felt our hearts break a little at our failure. All we had wanted to do was please him, make him happy, we just needed to know how. What had we done wrong?

Those who had once been Angel's bodyguards were told to take all the people who had soiled themselves outside and shoot them. While they were doing that, Angel was ordered to cook him dinner. He knew he wasn't a good cook, but he could say anything to protest. He did his best, trying to make something his boss would like, to please him, but apparently the pancakes weren't to his liking.

"You will go outside, dig a hole with your bare hands, and lay in it." To the guards he added, "When he lies down, kill him."

He made the boss angry. And he couldn't say anything to make it better.

Angel did as he was told. He dug a small hole with his hands, no bigger than his own fist, and lied down on the ground. The two men who had protected him for the last six years, Frank and Brian, had been loyal and fierce protectors. He had gone Frank's wedding, and Brian's kids were friends with his own.

They didn't hesitate to pull their triggers.

* * *

"He just….they just…..did that!" Jessica was stammering again, much to Harper's annoyance. Not that he disagreed with the sentiment.

Twelve hours ago the two of them had watched from afar as their target, one Kevin Thompson – aka Kilgrave – walked into the middle of a party at a private residence in an upscale part of Long Island like he owned the place. The guards at the door gave no resistance, and within twenty seconds of entering the facility had compelled all those inside to sit on the ground and cease making any kind of disturbance. After making a show of looking the various people over with slow, flesh crawling gazes, two lovely ladies in fairly revealing dresses were compelled to follow him upstairs in the master bedroom and proceed to service him. Thanks to the high resolution cameras that Dr. Sterns had provided for his mission, Jessica, the six other team members in the back of the van, and Harper were able to see and hear everything that had happened.

Ten hours later the target returned downstairs and, apparently having grown bored with so many hostages, ordered the onsite security team to remove half the people from the premises and execute them. A few of the hostages gave token resistance or said a few words prior to death.

Reasonable conclusion that target's compulsion on the affected individuals was beginning to wear off. Target must have noticed this, as he gave follow up instructions to those remaining in the building to continue being quiet.

"Sir, movement in the house," a tech announced from the back of the van, breaking Harper out of the mental report he was preparing. It wasn't something he needed to do right now, but he liked to keep his mind active and sharp. Preparing the paperwork ahead of time was one way to do so.

Jessica sat up a little straighter at that, "Oh great, what is the purple-suited fucker doing now?"

"Target ordered the death of the home owner," came the clipped reply, followed by, "apparently he didn't like pancakes."

Jessica watched, wide eyed and slightly panicking, as the man calmly walked outside, laid down, and was shot six times by his own men. Harper grunted at the sight, and filed it away to add to his report.

"When the fuck are you going to shoot this asshole? Why are we just sitting out here when we could be cracking that fucks jaw off?"

"Hostages," came his reply, again, for the tenth time today. Harper was beginning to second-guess bringing an untrained civilian along for this, but the boss said she was coming with so as far as Harper was concerned she was coming.

The added super strength to his team was a nice bonus.

"That is what you said when he killed half of them!"

The tech, King Richard everyone called him – even though his name was Greg – spoke up. "Ma'am, we have been following this target for a few days now. His pattern is to show up, stay a night or two, and move on. Usually no one is ever hurt. We don't know why he is acting against his M.O."

Harper gave another grunt of acknowledgement. "If we had expected this behavior, we wouldn't have waited to grab him."

The file McCole provided, and he was going to need to sit down and talk to him about how he even knew about this man when it had taken three days for brain boosted personnel to find him in the first place, had agreed on that aspect. Thompson is rapist and a sadist, but not normally a killer. Something escalated his behavior at location, but that wasn't what was really important. What was important now was preventing things from getting worse.

Harper glanced at her, not moving more than was necessary, and said, "I had wanted to try to grab him while he was traveling, to reduce risk, but there isn't much of a choice here." Looking back into the van at his tact-team, he barked, "Plan B, load up!"

Jessica turned back to him, her face stern, "We do not take this asshole alive. He has to die."

Her voice brokered no argument, and personally he had no issue with killing this individual considering what he had already done and was likely to do in the future, but his orders from the big man had been "alive if able."

Then again, he also said that it was no loss if he couldn't.

"I'm serious, Harper," Jessica put her face within inches of his own, and despite their friendship he was seriously concerned she might try to hurt him. "I mean it. We put him down. I don't care if this guy has a power that Michael wants or not, this guy gets shot, burned and scattered to the winds. His power is too dangerous for anyone to have."

* * *

The SUV raced up the driveway and came to a quick stop at just after two in the morning. The two men on the running boards leapt off and raced toward the building, their weapons scanning all around, searching for any targets. The driver and passenger joined soon after; they all carried the same equipment, H&K submachine guns with fat silencers on the end of the barrel, with pistols strapped to their thighs. Each was equipped the same as well; Amber Armor infused plates taking the place of the body armors normal inserts, with black Nomex suits under that covered them head to toe.

Harper didn't want anything heading back to the boss if things went south, so that was why he used gear as much over-the-counter gear as possible.

The four of operators formed in a tight stack near the entrance, and the man in front reached forward and gently tried the door latch.

Locked.

Jessica moved up from the back of the stack without a word. She reached out and quickly turned, breaking the lock and letting the door swing open with barely a sound.

She stepped to the side and the three men holding weapons rushed into the dark room, guns up and weapon lights burning arcs in the blackness. Jessica took a moment to compose herself, and joined up with the others in the room.

Each man had a sector to clear and did so quickly and efficiently. In ten seconds they had unarmed the motionless guards and began moving toward a stairway that led to the second floor.

 _++No movement. You are clear.++_

King Richard's voice in their ears was welcomed, breaking up the tension as they moved swiftly. Harper gave a grunt of acknowledgement and moved up.

Two open doorways were in front of them now, one on each side of the hallway the staircase opened to, with a closed door down at the end. The first and second men in the train peeled away; Harper going left while the other man when right. Both men found targets – armed bodyguards waiting for them, and fired; suppressed rounds thumping loudly in the confined space.

While he and the other man were engaging in the rooms, the third man remained in the hallway and kept his weapon trained on the door ahead, confident in the warm presence of Jessica Jones watching his back.

Quickly the two men returned to the hallway and aimed their guns forward. A second later they moved on to the closed door. They stacked up again, and the first man quietly checked the latch.

It was unlocked, so Harper paused only long enough to lower his body a few inches while his buddies did the same. The three men moved in as a team, Jessica on their tail, while lights under the three guns swept the room.

They found their target in the center of the unlit bedroom. Thompson lay in the bed, his arms wrapped around one of the still awake and very frightened women. The other woman lay on the far edge of the bed, also awake and just staring at the ceiling as tears flowed down the corner of her eyes.

The three gunmen in the doorway all raised their weapons…

"Finally!," Thompson announced with an air of amusement from where he lay, "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you all to show up? I've been looking forward to this meeting for days!"

Harper frowned behind his mask.

 _++Do not communicate with target.++_

The metahuman looked at them with what could only be described as a knowing smirk. "Oh come now. I knew it only a matter of time before someone came for me. I've gotten very observant over the years, always looking over my shoulders and covering my tracks. Didn't take much for me to realize the game was up."

Thompson paused, his voice full of mirth. "And I see you've come prepared. Were the hazmat suits really necessary? Come on, take off those masks."

When no one moved his smile turned into a sneer. "Remove your masks or I order all these lovely hostages to kill themselves. Maybe I'll have them att-"

Harper sensed Jessica move before he saw her, turning into a blur as she charged past him and the others straight for the target, but it was too late to stop her.

Nor did he want to.

One second the creature known as Thompson was speaking, and in the next there was a person-sized hole in the wall behind the bed where Jessica had burst through it. Thompson was still laying in the bed, most of him anyway.

Harper noted that the head was missing.

The team leader grunted, then subvocalized, "Target neutralized. Move on to S&R."


	32. Invasion

**_Invasion_**

* * *

As Loki slid to a halt a couple of feet away from me, people around us started stampeding in blind panic the moment they saw me attack someone. Thankfully, most ran towards the exit of the building, meaning that they wouldn't get in the way of the coming fight, meaning fewer casualties.

Attacking a guest out of nowhere would be bad PR already, I didn't need any deaths to complicate matters any further.

The attack could be rectified, since Loki scrabbling his way to his feet clearly indicated to everybody that he certainly wasn't a baseline human, and once he attacks New York, my actions here will be transformed from 'unprovoked attack' to 'pre-emptive strike'.

Dead people, however, would always remain dead people, regardless of the spin you put on the story.

No, it was easier on everyone if the building was as empty as possible when the Battle of Ice and Fire began.

Trying to buy some time for everybody to vacate the premises, I slowly walked to where the Frost Giant now stood glaring at me, his armor forming around his body in a show of golden light, one spindly hand coming up as he gently traced his bruised cheek with a controlled wince.

"So, how are you feeling, Loki? That bit of 'cerebral correction' shake a couple of things loose up there?"

Given the properties of the Scepter, and the fact that Loki's eye color had changed from his appearance in Thor to the one in Avengers (until the Puny God moment, at least) there actually might be a chance that Loki wasn't entirely acting on his own will.

Then again, that also might be complete bullshit, considering Loki's blatantly villainous actions on Asgard, Earth and the near genocide on Jotunheim. Dude was fucked up way before he ever even met Thanos.

Still, it didn't hurt to try and see if he could be made to see reason a bit earlier than in canon (may he/she/it rest in peace), since Ragnarok had shown that Loki, once he had gotten his issues out of his system for the moment, could actually be not that bad of a guy.

Sure, the humorous relationship between him and Thor was something that was unlikely to form with literally anyone else in the universe, so this wasn't me pining after the Trickster God's companionship or anything (I truthfully didn't much care what eventually became of the Jotun, as long as his plans didn't interfere with mine).

But returning a Crown Prince of Asgard back to sanity ought to give me some kudo's with their Royal Court (or at the very least with Frigga). Even if aiding Loki didn't earn me favors with Asgard, he was still useful to me, more useful than Odin, in fact.

During Loki's reign from the Dark World until Ragnarok, the Nine Realms had fallen into disarray (again) and presumably security had become lax.

Which for me, was perfect, or at least a hell of a lot better than the watchful one-eyed gaze of Odin making sure that all of their precious little goodies were secure in their vaults.

So yeah, if Loki turned out to be controlled or subtly influenced or whatever the hell was going on, and I managed to snap him out of it, great!

If it turned out he was just being a dick, then meh, I could still work with that.

For my immediate plans, it didn't really matter.

At my question, Loki looks up at me in surprise (his eyes are green again, I notice, but very dark and surrounded by deep bags) as his hand flies to his temple instead, a confused expression appearing on his face.

"What… there is this fog… in my thoughts… mortal, what… what is happening?" the Frost Giant muttered, one hand reaching out to grasp the stone altar that stood in the middle of the hall, as he slowly leaned against it, his shoulders hunched.

Huh, some mental effect then?

Seems all the Hiddleston fanboys are validated then.

Approaching the god, I placed one enormous hand on the man's shallow shoulder, a grin coming to my face.

"Well, am I glad that _that_ worked. Now here's the cliff notes: you were sent to invade Earth, using an army given to you by the Mad Titan Thanos, which is waiting on the other end of the universe. They need you to use the Tesseract in order to open a portal and bring them here. In return, after Thanos is done ransacking the place, you get to rule the remains as King. You got anything to add to that?" I ask as I peer closely at Loki's face, trying to read his reaction.

Other than some clearly visible surprise at the depth of my knowledge, he doesn't let slip anything else, as he slumps forwards a bit, resting his forehead in the palm of his right hand.

"I see… only the one thing then, really…"

And with that, he whirls in my direction, suddenly surging up as his other hand shoots into vision from where he had subtly hidden it from my view, the blade of a nearly foot long Asgardian blade suddenly flashing into existence, right before it's buried about halfway right between my ribs.

As I gasp in surprise at the sudden pain (it's been a _long_ time since I've been cut), as well as the fact that the blade so easily punched through my Amber Armor tux and skin (I'm surprised it penetrated at all, though to be fair, Loki had also managed to stab the extremely durable Thor right through his Asgardian battle armor), the Frost Giant viciously grabs me by my shirt collar, his lips peeling back to show his teeth as he snarls in my face.

"You should be more wary of trusting a God of _Lies_." He hisses with a smirk.

The smile quickly runs away from his face when he realizes three things.

One: I'm not keeling over dead yet. This has something to do with the fact that the Asgardian made weapon, superior to most conventional Midgardian weaponry, is only about halfway into my body instead of cutting me in half as it should have, and that was after he attacked with great force.

Two: the hand that I had placed on his shoulder is still holding on to him. In fact, its grip is steadily increasing, to the point that its hold is so strong, it actually becomes a bit painful to the god.

Three: I'm grinning.

Leaning in close (Loki tries to move away, but the hand on his shoulder prevents him from moving, which is exactly why I had approached him as I did) I place my right hand on Loki's other shoulder, my eyes nearly exploding with heat as smoke slowly starts to rise from my stab wound, molten blood hissing as it drips down the gleaming blade.

"And _you_ … should have gone for the head."

And with those words, I head-butt him hard enough to produce the sound of a thunderclap which echoes through the marble hall, the Frost Giant once again sent flying, this time crashing hard enough into the tiled floor to dig up a furrow a couple of feet long.

As Loki pushes himself up to his elbows, his expression one of pain and surprise, I look down at the blade that's still sticking out of my chest. Looking Loki straight in his green eyes, I slowly grasp the smooth handle, and extract his knife from where it's slipped in between two of my ribs.

His eyes widen slightly as his gaze lands on the smoking, red hot blade of the knife, before he flinches somewhat at the clattering sound it makes when I carelessly let it drop from my hands, the Asgardian weapon smoking as it lies on the marble tiles.

Casually straightening my jacket and bowtie as I approach him again, Loki is (surprisingly) quick to work himself back to his feet again, two more blades appearing in each hand with a twisting movement, a brief flare of magic barely noticeable to my senses, even as I'm straining them.

Either Loki is _really_ good at hiding his magic, or he's simply so far above my own level that he doesn't even need to hide, since I'm just incapable of sensing him at all.

Neither option is really advantageous to me, but then again, I never intended to settle this with magic anyways.

Not _his_ kind of magic, at least.

"I did not expect a Surtur-spawn in these regions, I must admit. Your arrogance is admirable though, if not overinflated. Hiding amongst these ants may have given you delusions of power, but _I_ am a _God_!"

And with that boast, Loki lets fly with his blades, two more appearing in his hands the moment the weapons sail through the air, as he dashes towards me with incredible speed.

I'm faster.

Twisting my torso sharply to the side, I let one of the knives fly past me, the second one landing in my upper arm, though only penetrating a few inches. Turning back in, I bring my fist forwards in a picture-perfect liver-shot. Loki proves his status as a Trickter God however: the moment my fist impacts his body, it falls apart in a show of gleaming light, revealing that the actual Loki had slid underneath the strike altogether, disguised in the shadow of his doppelganger.

Naruto and Sasuke would be proud.

As the armor on his knees scrape across the marble tiles, my thick arm sailing harmlessly over the tips of his curled horns, his hand lashes out, opening a long, if shallow cut on my thigh, prompting an annoyed snarl from me as I realized I've fallen for his signature trick.

The moment he's dodged my swing, he comes to a halt, pushes off and turns in a single smooth movement, ready to bury his knives deep in my kidneys (or as deep as they'll go at least), a vicious grin on his face as the gleaming blades close in on my form-

-right as I turn around, catching both knives in my hands, a pissed off expression on my face, my eyes lighting up with a hellish glow, ignoring how the Asgardian weapons make shallow cuts as they're trapped in my closed fists.

"I am no Surtur-spawn, little _god_. I. AM. A _TITAN_!" I roar in his face, before I Spartan-kick him in the chest, sending the Jotun flying once more, ripping the knives from my hands, my burning blood splattering across the floor, where it forms smoking pits.

Not even bothering with the already closing wounds, I rocket from where I had been standing, trying to go faster than I had ever gone before in my life, tiles cracking underneath me as I take off. For all that I had been boasting, my quote wasn't entirely incorrect.

Loki possessed both incredible superstrength, as well as an experience in combat that spanned more than a millennium, with a sly mind to use all that to boot. Combined with weaponry that was actually capable of breaking my skin, and he was a credible threat.

He wasn't strong enough to straight up cut my head off, but a knife through my eye socket, or up through my mouth, or even just the top of the spine, through the back of my neck?

With those damned knives of his, he could do it.

I needed to end this.

 _Fast_.

Even at my most impressive speed, Loki _almost_ proved fast enough to keep up with me, trying to avoid my first strike by turning his tumbling crash into a smooth combat roll, attempting to throw himself to the side, out of the way of my flying knee.

Almost.

Instead of striking him in the chest, as I had intended, I hit him in the hip, though my strength, combined with my momentum, still proved enough send him flying a couple of feet further in a spinning motion, until he managed to literally dig his fingers into the stone floor, coming to a halt on his hands and knees.

He wasn't fast enough to avoid my second strike.

In a move that wouldn't be out of place in a football match, my foot crashed into his side with enough force to lift him clear off the ground, the sound of ribs snapping clearly ringing out through the now empty hall.

With a pained grunt, Loki flew through the length of the ornate room, before he slammed into the brickwork next to the main entrance with a chocked off gasp, his body cratering the wall from his impact zone a couple of feet off the ground.

He was in too much pain to dodge my _third_ strike.

Before gravity even had a chance to pull the Jotun from the impression his body had made in the wall, a bright golden glow lit up the entire room as I flew right on his heels, my Meteor Fist charged to its fullest and ready to absolutely ruin a certain god's day.

And week.

In the millisecond before my fist impacted his chest, I saw Loki's eyes widen slightly in surprise as the golden glow of my chi shone on his pallid face, his cracked lips forming a small 'o'.

And then there was a wave of light and heat, and Loki was gone from the room.

As was the rest of the wall.

Looking out over the square in front of the Kunstmuseum Stuttgart, I spot bits and pieces of the wall of the Art Museum strew around the plaza, people screaming in fear and complete panic, and I don't blame them. It almost looks like someone bombed the place.

And lying in the middle of all that rubble, the armor of his chest caved in and smoking, lies the broken form of Loki Laufeyson.

Amazingly, the god is still conscious, though even from here I can tell that he has trouble breathing, and other than some weak grasping motions of his arms, he doesn't manage to work his way to his feet again. Floating out of the gaping hole in the side of the building that I had made (the sheer size of it made me wince slightly, as I hadn't expected my punch to be _that_ powerful) I made my way over towards the prone form of Earth's would-be conqueror, my hearing already picking up the sound of a jet rapidly approaching.

Black Widow and Captain America then, meaning that Tony Stark wasn't far behind. Widow was easily dealt with: since I had stopped Loki from taking out Dr. Schäfer's eye, Barton would be forced to use heavy tactics in order to breach the warehouse of Schäfer Siecherheitsdienst in order to obtain the Iridium.

Which meant that he was still here in Stuttgart, and would probably be forced to make quite a bit of noise. Noise that our resident superspy would be all too eager to investigate. Of course, I needed Loki's people to take the Iridium to Selvig, or otherwise there wouldn't be an Invasion, but it didn't have to be Barton specifically.

Ideally, he would still manage to get away from Widow in order to lead the attack on the Helicarrier, which would cripple S.H.I.E.L.D. and at least hold up the Avengers for a bit. If Loki was too weak to kill Coulson all the better, since then the Avengers wouldn't be galvanized to unite, and show up to the party even later.

If Barton _did_ manage to get captured by Romanov however, then it still wasn't a loss for me, since for my plan to succeed, both S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers were quite inconsequential. The plan would still be completed, I would just get less out of it than if the attack still continued.

Kneeling next to the Asgardian prince in order to make sure he wouldn't die here due to a punctured lung or something (and also to make sure he wasn't playing any tricks), I see his eyes flit towards my glowing ones, as we ignore the complete and utter pandemonium surrounding us.

"A… T-Titan… huh?" the god manages to choke out, a thin line of blood trailing from the corner of his mouth.

At my nod, his lips twitch into something that could either be a grin or a grimace.

"T-that… explains… _a lot_ …" Loki manages to gasp, a wet chuckle coming from his throat.

Hearing that the jet was quite close now, I grabbed the Jotun by the shoulder as I straightened, pulling him to his feet as I ignored his muted gasp of pain, as I turned in the direction of the approaching Avengers.

Sure enough, there was a bright streak through the sky as the air was filled with the roar of jet engines, a blurry shape falling from above. And lo and behold, Captain America crashed onto the ground a couple of feet before us, his Vibranium shield slamming into street with an ear-deafening bang.

And wearing that ridiculous outfit that Coulson had designed for him. Bless the man and his worship of the Captain (to be fair, you would be hard-pressed to find anyone in the Western hemisphere of his age who wouldn't do the same, as that generation was practically raised on stories, shows and literature based off Steve Rogers), but his fashion sense really was horrible.

The bulky gloves, the tight clothes, that ridiculous cap… Steve looked like he literally just stepped out of one of the comics that were written about him (the war movies portrayed his uniform pretty accurately, actually), which I guessed was sort of the point.

Still though…

As Steve straightened, he immediately took the most heroic pose you can imagine: chest out, hands on his hips, chin stuck out. He's not even aware that he's doing it, this sorta thing just comes naturally to him. However, after a few moments of us just staring at each other, with Loki barely clinging to consciousness and held up more by me grabbing him by the scruff of his neck than his own willpower, and with me showing no other reaction than raising a _very_ judging eyebrow as I slowly look his outfit up and down, he started to get a bit uncomfortable.

He almost fidgets, before he managed to steel himself, pointedly looking at the plaza surrounding us, filled with rubble and panicking people.

"What the hell happened here, Michael?" he asks in a stern, disapproving tone, but other than me raising my eyebrow even further, it doesn't really have any effect.

"I got into a bit of trouble with our resident alien here. Since you've arrived in that spiffy S.H.I.E.L.D. bird up there, I assume you know who he is?" I rumble, giving Loki a little shake, grim amusement rising as the god gives a pitiful moan as I do so.

"You call _this_ , a 'bit of trouble'?" Steve asks in an incredulous tone, sighing a bit at my nonchalant shrug.

Looking from me to my prisoner, the supersoldier's gaze hardens.

"Loki Laufeyson, formerly of Asgard. Yeah, I know who he is. Michael, he is _really_ bad news, on a global scale. It's the Red Skull all over again. So _please_ , if you know anything, anything at all, could you help us? We need all hands on deck for this one." Steve says earnestly as he glances at the beat up form of the Frost Giant.

"Well, I probably can only tell you things you already know. However, when I saw him at the gala, he seemed to go for one of the guest speakers, a certain Heinrich Schäfer, who owns a large compound here in Stuttgart, Schäfer Siecherheitsdienst. I don't know why he needed that man specifically, but maybe that can be your lead? I'm pretty sure a guy like Loki doesn't operate alone." I lie easily, pretending not to notice how Steve glances at the S.H.I.E.L.D. jet hanging in the air above the plaza.

For a moment, nobody said anything, before the jet suddenly threw its nose in the opposite direction, and took off at immense speeds.

Guess Romanov is really eager to get her hands on Barton, huh?

"By the way, where is Carter? I thought she wanted to join you in the field from now on?" I ask innocently, and bringing up his girl successfully takes his mind somewhat off the current situation.

"She's… chasing down a lead, at the moment. She's aborted her mission and is making her way back towards HQ, but it may take a while before-"

Anything else Steve was about to say was drowned out by the sound of Rock and Roll being blasted across the skies, a bright red and golden streak curving around before it rapidly descended towards us, slamming into the ground next to us in the classic three-point landing, shattering the brickwork underneath.

As the armored form of Iron Man straightened to its full height (it's actually pretty large up close, at least several inches taller than the beefed up Steve Rogers, with a pretty bulky frame) its glowing eyes slowly tracked from Cap's alert form, to my casual one, and finally to the slumped over Loki, the crater in his chestplate still clearly visible.

Even though his faceplate hid his expression, I could almost _feel_ Stark's deadpan look as those glowing eyes slowly turned to take in the entirety of the rubble strewn plaza, before they tracked back towards me.

"You must be _really_ bad at dancing if _this_ is the result."

* * *

After engaging in a snarking battle with the younger Stark (which sadly, I lost) an explosion on the edge of the city distracted both Avengers enough that I was able to get rid of them, handing Loki over to Cap and sending Iron Man out towards where Barton had clearly taken out the big guns (literally) in order to get the Iridium.

Between the two of them, Iron Man was the only one who could get to the scene of the crime at any reasonable speed, and Cap would have his hands full with Loki even as battered as he currently was (assuming that he had a somewhat similar regeneration factor to the Asgardians, in a couple of hours he might not be anymore).

Meaning that there wasn't really anyone left who could contain me, so I just told Steve that I'd find the owner of the Museum in order to pay for the damages, and that I had a date to get back to, as Loki had quite rudely interrupted our dance together.

The intentional parallel to his and Peggy's long-postponed dance clearly got to him, and after giving me a determined nod and taking Loki off my hands as he waited for his S.H.I.E.L.D. pick-up, I made my way back towards the Museum. It took a bit of rather forceful questioning (despite the fact that the fighting had ended a couple of minutes ago, people were still in a panic) before I managed to leave my contact information with the proper authorities, and then I slipped away out of the terrified crowd, everybody too worked up to even notice me.

Once I was certain that there were no eyes on me (a bit of subtle magical scanning made sure of that), I blasted off into the sky, making my way over towards the rendezvous with Jessica. Since we didn't know from what direction Romanov would be flying in, we couldn't pick a roof or anything like that, so instead we decided to meet at one of the underground parking lots.

Touching down in a back alley, I quickly made my way inside the agreed upon parking garage, where I spotted Jessica leaning against one of the few cars that were parked there. When she saw me approaching, she quickly picked up the case that was resting at her feet, and without a word, she smoothly fell in step next to me.

Both of us kept an eye on the camera's that occasionally lined the ceiling as we hurriedly moved along, and once we spotted a blind spot, we turned a corner, and stepped onto my private Island, arriving before the gates of Othrys, the tell-tale glow of a portal closing behind us.

There's a seven hour time difference between Germany and New York, meaning that it was still early afternoon at my base, the sun suddenly glaring to our eyes as we just left nighttime behind us.

Yeah, travel with portals is cool and all, but nobody mentions the extreme cases of jetlag you can end up developing (thank god that I only need so little sleep).

Thankfully our vision almost immediately adapted, and we saw that despite the hour, only Harper and Phineas' latest model were waiting outside for us. Most of Phineas' physical bodies (around a dozen were currently active) were almost like a Life Model Decoy of his original body (meaning that the differences were barely visible), though he had added some aesthetic differences that showed he had completely embraced his new status as a technological entity.

Meaning that small cybernetics showed on their faces and arms, and their eyes were robotic orbs instead of something mimicking the biological originals.

What was standing in front of us, however, was his Gatekeeper platform, and as such it was both a lot larger and a lot more robotic.

It had to be, in order to accommodate the veritable legion of heavy and futuristic weaponry Phineas had managed to cram into the body, to the point that it was more a walking tank than an actual human-like body.

Once he learned that I had taken the name of Hyperion, and had named the base Othrys, Phineas insisted that he get a nickname as well, in keeping with the whole Greek theme I had going on. In his words it was going to be "like, so totally _cool_ to create your own pantheon man!" and seeing no harm in it (and considering he _was_ in fact, tied very closely to Othrys already) I allowed it.

Which meant that I wasn't exactly looking at Phineas right now.

No, _this_ was Soter, Gatekeeper of Othrys, Majordomo to Hyperion, the New Titan of the East River.

(Alright, I had to admit to myself that Phineas was correct: it was pretty cool)

At our sudden arrival, I saw Phineas' optics widen slightly as he took us in, though Harper remained as stoic as ever, merely raising an eyebrow in question as he glanced at the bulky case in Jessica's hands.

"That the package?" he simply asked, and at my nod, he gave a grunt as he took the case from Jessica.

"You know the drill Harper. Stash it where only you, me, or Phineas can find it. It's _extremely_ dangerous, so we don't want this just lying around in Othrys. The possible damage it could inflict with all the stuff in there is immense."

At my dire warning, Jessica's eyes widen slightly, though Harper of course only gives a calm nod.

Then again, he knows more of the Plan than Jessica does. Phineas does as well, but that's only because of necessity.

As Harper stalks off towards the hangar without so much as another word, Phineas turns towards us with a big grin, his glowing optics briefly scanning Jessica as she's standing there in her tight dress.

"You two certainly look like you had an enjoyable night. Quite _explosive_ , if my sources are correct." He says as he lewdly wiggles his eyebrows, looking between me and Jessica.

As Jessica groans, I can't help but let out a large grin.

Everything is going according to plan.

* * *

One of the first things that I had Phineas do once he got used to his new state of being and his duties as Gatekeeper of Othrys, was hack S.H.I.E.L.D. Just because Fury was willing to hold a hand over my head so that my televised murders didn't lead to me being locked up or ending on an examination table, didn't mean that I would abstain from trying to get eyes and ears in the most expansive spy network in the world.

Ungrateful? Kinda.

Necessary? Definitely.

It had taken literal months (Phineas could probably brute-force his way into their systems in a couple of hours, but then every single person in the organization would know within minutes that they had been breached, and probably by who as well), but my AI-buddy had finally created an expansive enough network within S.H.I.E.L.D's systems, completely unnoticed, that I now had eyes and ears in _most_ of their locations.

S.H.I.E.L.D.'s systems were pretty compartmentalized (for instance, some of their safehouses and storage facilities ran on their own contained networks meaning that I had not access to those), probably specifically to counter the very thing that I was doing.

Smart, of course, unless you were infiltrated by Neo-Nazi's, who managed to use that fact to hide their own digital infrastructure. It was why Stark claimed he had 'every dirty secret S.H.I.E.L.D. had ever had', but didn't see any evidence of Hydra's survival. He simply didn't know that he should bother to look for them (they were dead for over seventy years after all), and he didn't have everything, he just had a part of a larger whole.

The most important thing for me, however, was that I now had eyes and ears in the Helicarrier.

By monitoring their communications, I listened in how Romanov, in an extremely clipped tone, reported that Barton had managed to escape with the Iridium, though Iron Man had managed to restrain a couple of Loki's henchmen.

It's also how I learned that Thor had made his appearance as he had in canon, but the sight of his hurt adoptive brother had sent him in such a rage he had brought down the Quinjet before anyone had managed to stop him.

Eventually, they managed to talk the irate Thunder God down until he was willing to listen to reason, explaining their common goal of stopping Loki's Invasion and saving Earth. However, since the Quinjet was down (that tends to happen to planes when they get struck by a bolt of lightning several feet across), other arrangements had to be made, which made me snort in laughter when I saw them approach the Helicarrier.

Stark was forced to carry Cap, while Thor carried Romanov on his back and Loki in his free hand. It looked as uncomfortable as it sounded, though Caps expression as he clinged onto Starks armored form was absolutely golden, and their awkward stance after they had landed and Steve 'dismounted' nearly sent me into a laughing fit.

I was quickly sobered by the attack on the Helicarrier however. As awesome as it had looked on screen back in my old universe, and as little I cared for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s spies, it's another thing entirely to actually see and hear people dying as they scream in confusion when their former friends and colleagues mercilessly open fire on them.

And to think, when Hydra revealed itself, all this would happen all over again.

Looking soberly at a screen that showed how the Hulk busted through one of the walls into the hangar bay, I watched how one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mightiest strongholds was brought low by one of their own.

Some small part of me had hoped that given Loki's condition after being on the receiving end of one of my chi enhanced punches, Coulson would survive this time around, but I wasn't sure whether or not he had, since Fury quickly moved him to a location where there were no camera's.

Coulson had cornered Loki just like he had in canon, but due to the beating I had given the Jotun, the God of Mischief didn't have the strength to pull an elaborate trick on the spy in order to stab him in the back, too battered to pull off any convincing illusions. Instead, he simply slumped over as if in pain, and when Coulson automatically lowered his weapon somewhat, surged forwards, a long knife flying from his hand.

Just goes to show that, even whitout access to most of his magic, Loki is still a Trickster at heart and an extremely dangerous combatant, capable of weaving misdirection into his attacks.

The Asgardian knife buried itself deep into Coulson's gut, who let out a pained gasp as he stumbled backwards. The spy tried to lift the Destroyer gun, but Loki hadn't been idle, and during the time it took for his weapon to leave his hand and find Coulson's stomach, the god had closed the distance between them, harshly backhanding Coulson in the face, which tore the gun from his hands as he flew into the nearest wall.

He was still alive though, since he managed to crawl over to where the weapon had fallen while Loki was distracted by glancing down the hole he had just sent his brother down, once again blasting the Frost Giant through the wall of the holding area.

As I watched how the Helicarrier stopped listing due to the combined efforts of Cap and Iron Man, a single jet taking off, a battered and bruised, but triumphant Loki inside, I turned in my seat behind my desk, taking a quick glance at the other various holographic screens that were projected.

Turning my head a bit to the side, my eye fell on a screen showing New York itself. More specifically, it showed Stark Tower. Even _more_ specifically, it showed the terrace of Stark Tower.

It was a feed of one of the multitude of cheap, lightweight drones that I had flying all over New York. Despite its small size and easy manufacturing it was leagues beyond any commercial drones my old world had been able to produce, offering great range, incredible stability and 4kHD video.

And currently, it was showing how one Erik Selvig was constructing something that looked like a mix between an enormous Arc Reactor and a miniature Bifrost Observatory.

Soon, the people of Earth would have an answer that had been plaguing them for millennia: they _weren't_ alone in the universe.

And the rest of the universe was scary as fuck.

Tapping my ear once, I waited until the call was taken. Without waiting for confirmation, I gave my order.

"Deploy the Hysminai. Tell them to get in position and remain there until I give the signal."

"Yes sir." Came the dry voice of Harper, before I shut the call off.

I rubbed my chin as I glanced at the multitude of screens in front of me, some of the Helicarrier, some of New York, as I contemplated what was about to happen.

I was nervous, I realized, though it was to be expected of course.

After all, in a couple of hours, I'd have completed one of the major milestones in my Twelve Step Program to Omnipotence.

I can hardly wait.

* * *

I'm standing in the main hall on the residential level, surrounded by the majority of my employees as we look at the enormous holographic screen that Phineas put on one of the walls, most of it showing the feed from my drone at Stark Tower, a small box (meaning it was the size of a regular flatscreen) up in the corner showing the local news station.

Everybody was watching with baited breath as we saw how Iron Man was blasted away from the Tesseract which protected itself with a glowing bubble of impenetrable energy.

A small part of me was curious about that impenetrable part. How would it stack up to a Meteor Fist, for instance?

Still, I couldn't act now.

It wasn't part of the plan.

I remained standing motionless as I looked at the feed even when a bright beam of light shot up from Selvig's creation, tearing a hole open in the sky above New York, like a 2-dimensional sinkhole that had been inverted and raised to hang upside down in the sky.

It was really difficult to look at directly, and that was even disregarding my magical senses that went completely haywire when two different ends of the universe were connected through a portal the size of a couple of city blocks, right above my head (figuratively speaking, of course, though it certainly didn't feel like it).

No wonder the Ancient One didn't show up in order to defend New York: given the sheer disturbance up in the air here, the various magical shields keeping Earth safe from being lunch for the bigger, nastier brothers of C'thulu were probably going haywire right now.

As the hole in the sky widened enough, the first Chitauri came through, and my employees turned to me with wide looks of confusion and visible fear.

"Michael, what the hell are we going to do?!" Jessica said in shock as she stared at a Leviathan that made its way through the portal.

' _God, had they always been that big? That thing has gotta be as long as a fucking **tanker**!'_

"We are going to _do_ nothing. We are secure within Othrys, so we'll just stay here and be safe-"

 **SAVE EARTH**

The voice that _slams_ into every fiber of my being, bypassing any kind of mental defenses I had painstakingly build using chi-meditation techniques and Pangborn's lessons, is enough to send me to my knees with a scream of pain, most of the crowd quickly jumping away as my body explodes with heat in response to this unseen threat.

"W-wha-" I try to grind out from behind gritted teeth, but once again a _presence_ fills my entire being, transcending simple notions such as body and mind.

Someone's got a direct line to my soul… and they're using it to yell at it at the top of their lungs, using a megaphone.

 **ONE ORDER, AND I SHALL GUIDE AND STAY YOUR HAND AS I SEE FIT AS YOU ATTEMPT TO COMPLETE IT. REMEMBER?**

Gritting my teeth, I try to straighten, spots in my vision as I dimly hear Jessica shouting in my ear, the only person willing to brave the waves of heat and fire that are rolling from my glowing body.

 _'The Avengers… will take care of it… Earth… is going to be… fine-'_ I try to think back (I'm biting down so hard that I doubt I could even talk out loud even if I wanted to, and since I don't want to be seen as a crazy person, I don't particularly want to).

However, before I can even finish my thought, another spike of pain lances through my skull, sending me back towards the ground, supporting myself on trembling arms.

 **YOU ARE _MY_ CHAMPION, YES? NO CHOSEN OF BAST, DAUGHTER OF AMON RA HIMSELF, THE FIRST SON, SHALL HIDE AWAY FROM HIS DUTY! _SAVE EARTH_! BAST COMMANDS IT!**

"It's not part of the plan!" I finally manage to yell out, letting my rage fuel me, though I'm immediately punished for it by a crushing force throughout my entire body which sends me sprawling on the ground, collapsing in a pool of fire.

 **I CARE NOT FOR THE PLANS OF MORTALS! I HAVE GIVEN YOU A COMMAND, CHAMPION. YOU HAVE ONLY TO FOLLOW IT, NOT TO QUESTION IT. _SAVE EARTH._ FIGHT!**

The pressure just keeps on increasing, until it feels that a mountain is resting on top of me. Eventually, it simply becomes too much to bear, and I give in.

"Fine! Fine, I'll fight!" I roar out, and almost immediately, the pressure leaves as if it was never there to begin with.

Opening my eyes, I see my people look at me in worry and fear, Jessica right next to me kneeling in molten stone as she holds my head in her hands, which are slightly burned, I notice.

"I'm okay. I'm okay now, Jess, it's alright." I say tiredly, though strength is rapidly returning to me.

"What the fucking _hell_ was that, Michael?" Jessica says in an urgent tone as she helps me to my feet, but before I can answer, I hear Pangborn speak up in a shaky voice.

"That… that was… I have _never_ felt such power before… who contacted you?"

Turning towards the kneeling wizard as I slowly straighten, I let out a grim smile.

"Bast, the Panther Goddess of the Wakandan people. I ran into her a while back, and I had to promise that I would become her Champion if I wanted to leave alive. Meaning that she gave me a Task, which I had to fulfill according to her wishes. The Task was to save Earth, and she now wants me to fight. I had to say yes."

If it weren't for the fact that they were living in a futuristic stronghold inhabited by the digitized spirit of their deceased coworker, working for a man who daily practiced magic and had a firebreathing dinosaur for a pet, the news that I had literally talked to a Goddess might have been unbelievable to most.

As it was, many of them were still somewhat sceptic, but they at least accepted that I was apparently contacted by something extremely powerful and ordered to fight and defend their city, so they didn't much care either way.

Clearly, they were still scared of the invading army, and if I had ordered them out to fight alongside me, many of them would've either refused, or do so grudingly, which might damage Othrys in the future.

Now that Bast had so _graciously_ delivered a literal Divine Intervention, forcing me to do battle in order to save them, they had a lot more confidence in me, and just looking at their determined gazes, I knew that I could order most of these people out there and they wouldn't even hesitate (their untrained, unenhanced families would stay safely within Othrys of course).

If it turned out that by enforcing her will on me in order to fulfill her order she turned out to have used up all her favors with me all the better. I hoped this was the case (which is part of the reason why I deliberately stalled until Bast lost her patience with me, as I had expected she would), since we had never specified what saving Earth exactly entailed or for how long her order lasted, but I wasn't counting on Bast seeing it my way.

She was a God.

Gods were dicks like that.

"Michael. What are we going to do?" Jessica asked me again, and I turned towards her with a sly smile.

"Someone wake up Susan."

Everything was going according to plan.

Perfect.

* * *

By the time I rocket out of Othrys, fully clad in the final version of my armor (meaning that it looked different from what I had worn during my attack on Bakuto's hideout, just in case), only a minute or so has passed, meaning I have beaten Thor and the other Avengers to the fight.

Just as I had intended.

Rocketing towards the city center where Iron Man can be seen fighting off the horde of Chitauri fliers, I angle my way upwards towards where the aliens are swarming into my world like a horde of locusts.

Compartments on my shoulders and back slide away, and right as the Chitauri (and Stark) notice that I'm approaching, I unleash a payload of micro-missiles that take out scores of aliens in a single hit as I blast past them.

Almost immediately, bright purple blasts screamd towards and past me, showing that I've definitely managed to catch the invaders' interests.

I'm not interested in them, though.

In the words of a certain witch: I want the big one.

Tracking down the Leviathan is easy, considering it's gargantuan size. Once I spot it, all the while taking down every Chitauri flier that's stupid enough to get within my reach with punches or kicks, and gunning down everything that's further away, I make a looping maneuver.

Making a sharp turn (causing a Chitauri sled that was too eager in its pursuit to crash into a building in a glorious ball of flame and alien body parts), I rocket down the street that the Leviathan had just started to turn into.

It doesn't have any eyes that I can see, but I can still sense that it's somewhat surprised to find something moving _towards_ its enormous mouth, filled with sharp teeth the size of a medium car. Still, it immediately starts barreling towards me, steadily picking up speed, whereas I come to a sudden halt (holding out an arm, I behead a Chitauri that had been close on my heels, but who was a bit too late to come to a stop like I had), making sure that I'm slightly above the Leviathan's head.

As it gets closer and closer, I focus all of my chi into my fist, powering up the Meteor Fist as far as it will go, struggling to keep the enormous amounts of energy contained and controlled, as the alien creature closes in on me.

Right before it crashes into me, however, I rocket upwards so I'm above the Leviathan's 'nose', and then send the entirety of my powerfield to surround my fist as well, which incidentally meant that my flight suddenly cuts off as I do, sending me crashing down.

Right on top of the Leviathan's head.

Before my feet impact the metallic skull, I swing my fist down with every single bit of power I have, a loud roar tearing from my throat.

The impact creates a shockwave which completely shatters every window on both sides of the streets, a blast of heat and flame surrounding me in a halo of fire, as the Leviathan is rocketed _into_ the street below, moving so fast it almost appears as a blur.

There's a shocked silence across the battlefield, even the Chitauri gaping at the display of sheer power, and as the dust slowly settles, I can't help but grin at the results, even though I'm pretty worn out at the moment.

Because lying there below me, half buried into the ground, is the corpse of a Leviathan, with the entirety of its humongous skull caved in, charred and smoking, having died instantly,

Since that attack took a lot out of me, I'm rather sluggish in turning around when at the other end of the street, a second Leviathan rounds the corner, and immediately speeds towards me, maw spread wide as it aimes to devour me whole.

Still, it doesn't really matter how fast or slow I was in reacting towards this new threat-

"ROOOAAARRR!"

-since it's being taken care of by a Giant T-Rex, which speeds out of nowhere as she closes her jaws around the middle of the Leviathan, bringing it to a sudden halt, its jaws snapping closed a mere foot away from my face.

Susan, fully enlarged with Pym Particles and clad in segmented armor made from a tungsten-titanium alloy with a graphene inlay for comfort, violently shakes the Leviathan back and forth, smacking it into buildings before there was a loud snapping sound.

The trashing Leviathan suddenly goes limp, and with a wet crunching sound, Susan bites the entire thing in half, letting both parts fall to the ground below in a shower of gore and blood. Turning her house-sized head in my direction, she leisurely licks her chops in clear pride and satisfaction, prompting a grin from me.

Glancing behind my dinosaur, I see yet another Leviathan, as well as a veritable tidal wave of Chitauri fliers rapidly approach us, apparently recognizing the threat we represented.

In a matter of moments, I've sped over towards the enlarged Susan, landing at the base of her massively thick neck, one arm pointed in the direction of our coming attackers.

"Susan! Let's fry these fuckers! Just like we practiced, okay girl!"

As the T-Rex turns towards the rapidly approaching Chitauri with a worrying gleam of intelligence in her eyes, she braces herself, and sperrs her cavernous maw wide open, waterfalls of purplish blood streaming down her jaws.

Heat rapidly starts to build within her, making the air around us waver as I light up both my hands with my chi, before placing my palms on her glowing hot skin. As Susan builds her fire higher and higher, I keep pumping more and more chi into her, mixing it with the heat inside her.

Right as the Chitauri were upon us, I roar out "NOW!"

And Susan unleashes a veritable tidalwave of flame, its edges tinted with those non-colors that were so characteristic of chi-fire.

The Chitauri die in droves, in some cases reduced to only ash and a crumpled, malformed sled. The Leviathan that had accompanied them crashes to the ground, a burnt out husk, smoke coming from its mouth and various caverns in its sides showing that it had been simultaneously set alight, as well as cooked from the inside out.

Looking at the hell we have unleashed together, I float up towards Susan's table-sized eye, patting her on the horny ridge that protruded above it.

"Good girl."

The weather around us darkens, a bright flash of lighting cleaving through the sky, the telltale rumbling sound of thunder ringing in our eardrums not even a second later.

Seems Thor has arrived then.

Spotting another figure flying through the air, wearing a black trenchcoat and punching Chitauri into oblivion, I recognize Jessica as she was aiding in the fight. A quick look around shows me that the rest of the offensive forces of Othrys have finally caught up to me and Susan.

Swarms of drones fill the skies as they shoot lasers, exotic bullets and micro-missiles at the invading Chitauri, though they aren't much help against the massive Leviathans, each surviving one bringing dozens and dozens of fresh alien warriors with it.

But more importantly are my people on the ground, clad in Amber Armor tactical gear, as they make their ways down the streets to where the fighting was heaviest, meaning that police and firefighters couldn't get to the people trapped there.

Fighting aliens was all well and good, but as Civil War had shown, if you had to wreck shit in order to do it, people were still going to hound your ass over it. Which is why I was up here, highly visible and doing lots of damage, a clear defender of the people.

And it was why people in Titan Solutions uniforms were down below, shifting rubble off survivors, guiding panicking people to safety, reducing Chitauri soldiers that had managed to come up and close to paste with their fists or Othrys weaponry.

The longer the fight lasted, the more people they saved, and the more aliens I killed, which in the long run meant better PR for Titan Solutions and more alien material for Adrian Toomes to salvage and share with a certain 8 foot tall close friend of his.

Having caught my breath, I give Susan a light swat on her head, signaling her to go off on her own. Letting out a challenging roar that rattles the windows around us and sends the people far below to the ground clutching their ears, Susan barrels towards where another Leviathan has just crashed _through_ a building as if it was made of paper in order to get at her.

Watching as my pet dinosaur, now 50 feet tall and trailing fire and smoke from her wide open maw as she storms towards an approaching spacewhale, I give a wide grin before I turn around in search of my own victims, of which there are many.

Without the Sceptre, the Avengers can't close the portal (can't have my supply of limitless alien loot cut off too soon after all), so Chitauri Riders keep on flowing through the tear in space, and each Leviathan that survives not only cuts a swath of destruction through the city (which is something that Titan Solutions will be all too happy to fix, the more the better), they also bring a fresh load of new Chitauri warriors with them.

Meaning that my machine guns are constantly up and firing, my on board targeting system combined with my own enhanced senses meaning that I hit more often than I miss, Chitauri falling to the ground in scores, completely riddled with high-calibre bullets.

Occasionally as I'm flying around from hot-spot to hot-spot (guided by Phineas, who thanks to the legions of drones now in the air, is easily keeping an eye on the entirety of the battle for me) I spot some of the Avengers.

Iron Man and Thor are the easiest to notice, of course. Thor is easily racking up a kill count equal to mine with those enormous bolts of lightning he's throwing around, Chitauri dying in waves to the might of Mjolnir.

Iron Man just appears to be continuously surrounded by explosions as Tony tries his very best to corral what can only be compared to a tidal wave of locusts. The fact that he's actually somewhat succeeding in that effort says a lot about his skills as a combatant, flier, and his tactical awareness.

The Hulk is another that's easy to spot, as he's jumping around from building to building, crushing Chitauri in bulk in those meaty green fists of his, with an ease that's honestly almost frightening. Sure, me, Thor and Tony may kill more at a time, but we all need to work at killing the damned aliens.

Hulk merely grabs them in his hands, and squishes them as if they were nothing more than little bags of juice.

Cap, Barton, Romanov and Carter (Phineas had caught sight of her with one of his drones right as she snapped a Chitauri nearly in half over her knee) are a lot harder to spot in the sheer chaos that has become New York as I keep shooting down aliens, or letting them crash into my unbreakable body, but occasionally I do spot that glaring red, white and blue down on the streets.

It's not enough.

The waves of Chitauri soldiers keep breaking on our attacks, but they simply don't seem to run out. And every one we miss, is one that wreaks more and more havoc, and each Leviathan we miss means more and more Chitauri soldiers, which means that there are more and more enemy forces at our backs.

At any moment now, the situation will appear unsalvageable to the WSC, and they'll launch a nuke at Manhattan.

I needed that to be just a _little_ bit later.

Flying straight into a squad of Riders that had been giving Stark a bit of trouble as he didn't manage to shake them, I manage to destroy two on impact, while I grab the head of another.

I stop.

His Sled doesn't.

With a wet cracking noise, his head pops off. Not even pausing as I'm covered in even more gore, I turn and throw the head with all my might at one of the various Chitauri that are climbing the surrounding buildings like mutated ants, striking one hard enough I caved its chest in.

Ignoring its chocked cries as it falls back to Earth, I return Stark's professional nod, before he rockets off, and I home in on my actual target.

A Leviathan, half again as large as most others, this one clearly bears the marks of having survived one of Thor's attacks (considering the multitude of charred Leviathans that surround the brightly glowing Chrysler Building, that's pretty impressive actually), since it's covered in scorching burnmarks, crashing into the various skycrapers of Manhattan.

Rocketing forwards, trying to ignore my aching body as yet more purple bolts slam into my armor (which is pitted and smoking in a few places, but still fully operational), I approach the Leviathan head-on. Once it notices me, it lets out a challenging roar (though it fails to compare to the ones the Hulk and Susan are making somewhere around Times Square) as it speeds towards me in those odd gravity-defying waving motions of the Leviathans.

It seems to have learned from his brethren, however, since instead of merely flying straight towards me with the intention of either ramming me or eating me, it heaves up its upper body at the latest moment, taking my tired mind off-guard.

Looking upwards, I have just enough time to lift up my arms, before the Leviathan crashes down onto me, its front teeth slamming against my outstretched palms. I try to keep myself in the air using Jessica's power, but with nothing to brace against, the Leviathan's vastly greater mass pushes me down with little effort, until it slams me into the street below, my feet cracking the tarmac and being almost completely buried.

I'm straining with all of my strength, holding up the Leviathan as it keeps trying to press down on me, its long sinuous body now almost ninety degrees upwards. The street keeps buckling around me, and I'm pretty sure that if this goes on much longer, the damned space whale will simply push me straight through it and into the subway.

So, I do something a little bit… stupid.

I start channeling magic in my hands. Now, magic, as the Ancient One had told Strange, could be seen as a sort of programming language to reality, funneling interdimensional energy through carefully constructed conduits (items, gestures, words, you name it) in order to achieve an desired effect.

One of the simpler spells was the Whip, partly because the required conduits (in this case gestures) were fairly few and rather easy, but mostly because it was nearly impossible to overpower the spell. Funneling too much interdimensional energy into spells could either cause it to fizzle out or blow up spectacularly, but in the case of the Whip, it either made it tougher or simply longer.

I start pumping a _ridiculous_ amount of magic into the spell, a glowing array springing into existence around my outstretched arms, a thick burning line of light and energy forming between them.

And then I let go of the Leviathan.

It immediately opens its mouth wider as it speeds downwards, but I was already moving, rocketing backwards and letting the giant beast's jaws snap shut right in front of me.

With the Whip now in between its teeth.

Not giving it a moment to recover, I shoot upwards, cratering the ruined street even further underneath me. I only manage to fly up about 20 feet before the Whip pulls taut. So I pour on even _more_ speed, literally dragging the Leviathan with me.

As its enormous head laboriously rises into the air, I make two quick loops around it, taking advantage of my greater maneuverability. Then, once I feel secure that the Whip would remain in place, I crash down onto the Leviathan's neck, straightening to my full length, and pulling on the magic lines as hard as I could.

And at my command, the Leviathan rises.

I want to laugh and roar in victory, but the moment is suddenly broken by a Chitauri soldier who had been aboard the Leviathan slamming a sword into my side, where the armor is thinnest. Due to my natural toughness and that of the armor, the sword doesn't even make it halfway inside, but it still hurts like a bitch and a half, a pained grunt escaping me as I desperately try to control the raging Leviathan underneath me.

The soldier savagely tears out his weapon, the blade now glowing red-hot, but if the alien notices or even cares I'm not sure, since he makes to immediately stab me again. Before he can attack, or I can defend for that matter, a slim arrow suddenly sprouts from his eye socket, his expression and limbs immediately falling slack as he slowly topples from the Leviathan to the ground far below.

"Soter! Keep any aliens from getting close to me!"

"Sure thing Hyperion."

"And make sure to send Barton a thank-you note."

"Of course."

Giving a harsh yank on my improvised reigns, I steer the Leviathan back towards the thick of the battle, smashing into every gob smacked Chitauri on the way.

I have to admit, seeing the God of Thunder freeze in smashing an aliens head in as both he and his victim stare with open mouths as I barrel past on my oiltanker sized alien bio-warship is probably the funniest thing I have ever seen.

Using my new mount, I slam into other Leviathans, either pushing them back towards the rough perimeter that Stark and Steve are trying to keep together, or to simply kill them outright, as I manage to break more than a few back by descending down towards them from on high at enormous speeds, ramming them right in the middle of their oversized bodies.

The Chitauri footsoldiers and Riders are simply reduced to smears upon impact. There's a whole squadron of Riders on my ass (from their unusually harsh and loud screams, I'm guessing stealing one of their bio-ship/warmounts/attackdogs is regarded as a pretty grave offense) but Phineas (or Soter, now that we're on 'active duty') is true to his word, and a small swarm of drones is sticking close to me, shooting down every alien that tries to board me.

My efforts in trying to turn back the invading forces are suddenly aided by the arrival of the military, an Apache Fighter swooping around the corner of one of the highrises as I pass it, taking down an entire wave of Chitauri Riders that had been hounding me.

Because the fight was now lasting longer than in canon, since none of the Avengers knew where the Sceptre was, and thus were unable to close the portal (I briefly wondered what that meant for their psyche's if they thought they were fighting a battle they simply _couldn't_ end), enough time had elapsed for military and relief forces to finally arrive to the site of the wholly unexpected attack.

Choppers filled the air, getting into desperate dogfights with the surrounding aliens, while down below, waves of green fought bitterly for every single street as they tried to push back the endless tides, supported by LUV's and even APC's, lead by Carter and Captain America and aided by the elite forces of Titan Solutions.

Fighter jets were limited in their contribution, since their sheer flying speed and heavy ordnance meant that they were far too damaging to the City and their allies to get too close, but Phineas noted several Leviathans that had managed to breach the perimiter being reduced to smithereens by the combined fire of the jets that kept circling Manhattan at a high enough altitude so their mere passage wouldn't shatter ever glass object within the city, the deafening roar of their engines adding to the rumbling thunder of Thor's powers.

"Hyperion. Jessica is in trouble over on Lexington Avenue. Multiple Leviathans are harassing the surroundings, and she can only focus on one at a time."

"Thanks Soter, I'm on it."

Giving another heave on the reigns, I steer my Leviathan towards the direction of the Chrysler Building, that's no longer lit up as a Christmas Tree, though the surrounding skies are looking like a Cat 2 hurricane at this point, a near constant rumbling of thunder shaking the entire city.

Two small flying shapes, one trailing a red cape, the other clad in a dark duster, can be seen flitting around, smashing into Chitauri Riders and Leviathans alike, but by trying to create a bottleneck for the invaders, Thor has painted a pretty big target on himself, and the area is swarming with more enemies than they can handle.

Which is where I come in.

Spotting Thor and Jessica each near a Leviathan and roughly in line with each other, I give a hard stomp on my own beast's head, which causes it to give a hateful roar as it speeds up. Thor has just a moment to spot me, catch onto what I'm attempting, and move to the side of his own Leviathan.

The enemy spacewhale tries to follow the much more agile Thunder God, only to get completely blindsided by my own mount as it slams into its head, causing it to widely swing to the left, where Thor is already waiting with Mjolnir in a two-handed grip. As the disoriented massive head rockets towards it, he swings his mythic weapon with all of his godly might like a professional baseball player, crashing Mjolnir into the Leviathan with such brute force he sends its jaw (and the rest of it) flying.

I barely have eyes for this as I rocket towards the Leviathan that Jessica's currently tangling with. It has heard mine and Thor's attacks however, and is in the process of turning away from her and towards me. Unfortunately for it, this just means that it ends up presenting its side to me, and pouring on even more speed, my Leviathan slams into its fellow space whale with enough force to have it nearly do a 180.

As its tail is thrown wide, it rockets towards Jessica, who flies up, grabs it with both arms, and uses the momentum of the already spinning giant alien to wrest it upwards, swinging it wide over her head and slamming it down on top of the Empire State Building, it's gleaming tip punching through its underjaw straight through its brain and emerging out of the top of its skull.

That's my girl.

Still, as awesome as those moves had been (and that was disregarding the awesomeness of Iron Man's explosions and daredevil maneuvers, Hulk and Susan teaming up to literally tear a Leviathan in half in the most bizarre display of tug of war in the history of the universe, Phineas' unparalleled crowd control with a veritable swarm of deadly machinery) we're all tiring, Jessica wobbling slightly in the air before she manages to steady herself, her face showing the same exhaustion that's slowly starting to form on Thor's face.

The same exhaustion that becomes more and more apparent in my own body.

The fight in canon couldn't have lasted more than a couple of hours, two to three at the absolute most, though I think it was a lot shorter than that, given that the sun was pretty much in the same spot during the entirety of the battle.

But now… the sun was already setting.

In little over an hour, night will fall, and something tells me that these Chitauri didn't mind fighting in the dark. Meanwhile, most of our defenders don't have night vision, and neither do my own forces (the organic ones at least). Those that aren't aiding the soldiers (whose advance has stalled as the Chitauri numbers swelled beyond what they could overcome, so now they've dug in and are waging a bitter turf war with the aliens) are still evacuating people from the area of the battle, saving lives every second, but digging through the rubble in the dead of night was just as likely to do harm as good.

Sure, Thor's lighting and mine and Susan's fire (as well as the few lights that were still working in the city and the multitude that my robotic forces were equipped with) provides ample light for now, but we are tiring as well.

We can't keep this up for much longer.

However, deliverance was upon us in the form of Phineas speaking up in my earpiece.

"Hyperion. The WSC has just authorized a nuclear strike on Manhattan. Fury is fighting them over it, refusing to follow their order, but they're already scrambling a bird."

"Perfect. Are the Hysminai in postion?"

"They are. Ready to move at your command."

"Good. Soter, begin broadcast. Oh, and tell Pangborn to prepare a large area of effect stasis spell."

"As you wish, Hyperion."

And with those words, I steer my Leviathan towards Othrys. At the impressive speeds that the Chitauri creature moves at, I'm there within the minute, completely ignoring the raging aliens around me.

The battle was won anyways.

As my Island comes into view, I immediately spot the area where Pangborn has prepared his stasis spell, though I'm somewhat confused by the agitated twisting and shuffling of the jungle on the island.

A question for later.

Seeing the few figures that had helped Pangborn set everything up quickly run away from the area, I steer my Leviathan sharply downwards, landing the creature with such an enormous crash, that if it wasn't for Othrys highly advanced foundations, I'd be worried the massive impact might have caused some shifts and instabilities.

Almost before the Leviathan has come to a complete and sudden stop, I jump off, getting myself out of the radius of the spell as fast as possible.

"Activate it! NOW!"

Pangborn doesn't waste a moment, twisting his hands, covered in glowing geometric figures, a couple of times in intricate patterns around each other, before he slams them into the runic pattern before him, which lights up with a pale blue glow, showing a complicated figure that completely encompasses the Leviathan.

Said creature is trying to rise from the Earth, but the moment the last glyph lights up, a slightly transparent dome springs up around it, and it's motions are completely frozen. It's now in complete stasis: on the inside of the bubble, time no longer flows, perfectly preserving everything inside, like a better, magical version of amber.

Pangborn nearly collapses on the spot from channeling such advanced magic on such an humongous scale, blood dripping from his nose and eyes. Still, I'm on a _very_ tight clock here, so I can't stay and make sure he's alright.

"Get him medical attention!"

"Already on it Hyperion." Phineas calm voice sounds in my ear, even as I hear him simultaneously broadcast from the legion of drones further into the city.

Having an incorporeal friend is _weird_.

As I rocket away, I can spot Phineas' Gatekeeper Platform quickly approach the slumped over form of Pangborn, the smoking pits and craters on the robotic frame giving me an inkling as to why there are faint screams coming from my agitated jungle.

And then I'm gone, eyes fixed on the horizon, where Phineas has helpfully put a targeting rectangle on my HUD. As I fly through the warzone that New York has become, I catch a snippet from Phineas' drones, his voice coming from a thousand angles but never sounding muffled or unintelligible.

"-repeat, the World Security Council, at 21:58, has authorized a nuclear strike on Manhattan, despite the objections of Director Nicholas Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. His objection to firing upon a civilian target on American Soil was overruled, and a nuke is now headed this way. Please try to remain inside. Hyperion of Titan Solutions is dealing with this issue as we speak. I repeat, the World Security Council-"

And then I'm out of the city itself, leaving its burning, warring remains behind me as I rocket towards the approaching nuke. As it approaches me in a head-on collision, I cut the power, allowing me to drop as I stretch out my hand.

Catching myself on the metal casing of the nuke, I first get into position underneath it, before I start flying as fast as I can, combining both my own flight, as well as the Arc Reactors in my armor. A keening wail starts to rise in the air around me, making my teeth ache in my skull, before there's an enormous wave of pressure and an ear deafening bang.

It takes me a moment to realize that I've just broken the soundbarrier.

As I approach the center of New York again, I can see that the Avengers and the Military have cottoned on immediately to what I'm trying to do, since I can see all of them trying to form a corridor for me straight to the portal (Romanov has even managed to once again commandeer a Sled, using it to deadly effect).

Blasting over the city, leaving rattling windows in my wake, I only have eyes for the portal far above me, as I begin angling upwards. I rocket past a battered Iron Man suit that's clearly all out of ordinance and is carefully timing its noticeably weaker repulsor blasts, past Susan who is missing part of her armor and whose still unleashing walls of flame, even though she's visibly exhausted, past Thor whose missing part of his cape and who as a black eye, even as he buries Mjolnir up to the hilt in the head of a Chituari soldier, past a Hulk who is literally wrestling a Leviathan to the ground…

Past a shocked looking Jessica, as I catch a glimpse of her face as I flash past her, her eyes wide as she follows me, her mouth forming a small 'no'.

And then all sound is cut off as I'm suddenly no longer in Earth's atmosphere. Instead, I'm hanging in the void of space at the other edge of the universe. Kilometers away are the mountainous motherships of the Chitauri, ready to unleash never ending hordes of their soldiers upon Earth, devouring it completely.

With a grin, I let go of the nuke, which speeds through the vacuum of space on its own power. Before it can get very far though, I take aim with my right gauntlet, a small compartment opening up with ordinance that I had been saving during the entire Invasion specifically for this moment.

A small object rockets out of my gauntlet, impacts the the speeding nuke... and now it's the size of a small boat.

That done, I quickly speak into my comms (specifically designed to work at interplanetary distances and yet still fit inside my helmet, something that Stark _could_ do, but didn't know that he would end up needing).

"Now."

And with that, I turn around, and rocket towards the portal, which is already shrinking, the Tesseract having been shut off, despite the fact that none of the Avengers have the Scepter or even know where it is.

When they go to look for the cause of the shut down portal, they'll find out that the Tesseract will be gone as well, and the only people that know the whereabouts of both objects are me, Phineas, Harper and his special team, which nobody else knows about since their sensibilities would probably be against their usage.

I had given them the codename Hysminai, but they were once called the Winter Soldiers.

Harper was the only person who I could rely on to not mind the enslaving of elite Neo-Nazi's, and the Hysminai were so limited in their autonomy, I was forced to appoint a handler to them.

Phineas knew about them because, well, in a sense he _is_ Othrys. Trying to keep the Hysminai secret from him would be an effort doomed to fail, so I clued him in on their existance as well. Thankfully, the digitized spirit wasn't too hung up on my mental enslavement of the elite supersoldiers, rationalizing it as a pretty shitty thing that had happened to some _very_ shitty people and a such not something that he needed to feel bad aboud.

The fact that he thought it was cool as shit didn't have anything to do with his judgement, or so he promised me with the most unbelievable expression of innocence I had ever seen.

As I enter Earth's atmosphere again, being greeted with the sight of countless aliens that have just spontaneously dropped dead where they stood, the bloom of nuclear fire behind me suddenly shut off as the portal closes, I can't help the grin that's growing on my face.

Everything went according to plan.

* * *

 **Soter** (Σωτήρ) **:** male spirit of safety, preservation, and deliverance from harm.

 **Hysminai** (Ὑσμῖναι) **:** spirits of fighting and combat.

 **Fun Fact:** Real Military Police were used in the attack of New York City. The crew hired 25 members of the Ohio-based 391st military police force battalion for the scenes, and director Joss Whedon even allowed them to give their own input on how they would theoretically act in a similar scenario, and then followed their directions.

 **AN:** It's half past three AM… I'm… so… _tired_ ….

 _As awlays, major shout out to my amazing Patrons, AndrewDC_MAC2, Miu, justlovereadin, Carn Krauss, ReapeScythe, Thordur hrafn and Daniel Dorfman! And a warm welcome to Samuel Carson, thanks for your support! I cannot thank you guys enough for willing to support me as you do, so thanks again!_


	33. Interlude 8

**_Clean-up_**

* * *

 **Three days after Invasion**

When Jessica Jones saw a portal open up in the sky, she felt worry coil in her gut. When she flew out of Othrys to fight a host of invading aliens, that worry was accompanied by a rush of adrenaline. When she smashed a Leviathan through the spike of the Chrysler Building, the adrenaline and worry had been replaced by a bone-deep feeling of tiredness and general rage as she saw more and more people vanish in explosions and under mounds of rubble.

But when her boss and (sort of) boyfriend sped past her faster than the speed of sound, carrying a _nuke_ on his back through the portal up in the sky, to God knows where… that was the first time Jessica Jones experienced true dread.

A massive light had suddenly bloomed on the other side of the universe, visible even from where she was flying, and as one, the Chitauri around her fell from the sky like flies, not even so much as a twitch to be seen on any one of the ugly fuckers.

For a brief moment she dared to feel hope, before it was ruthlessly squashed by a chilling fear as the beam that had been connected to the portal cut off out of nowhere, the inverted sinkhole in the sky rapidly shrinking, trapping Michael on the other side of the universe-

-And then a small shape sped through the portal, the tear in space-time slipping shut right on his heels, the smoking form of Michael McCole surveying the battlefield in a triumphant pose, having saved the day.

After that rollercoaster of emotions, having been stuck in an active warzone for _hours_ , Jessica did the only thing she could think of as she floated up towards the New Titan.

She kicked him in the balls as hard as she could.

Between Michael's natural toughness and his armor, he was (relatively) fine, but the giant still let out a high-pitched groan as he nearly bent over double.

"W-What… the _hell_ , Jess?"

"Take that fucking helmet off so I can kiss you, you asshole." Was her reply as she fumbled for the claps of his armor, her bruised and blood-covered fingers trembling at her hurried motions.

And kiss him she did, in full view of the army, the Avengers (as they turned out to call themselves), Phineas' legion of drones and just about every New Yorker still present.

Looking at the 20 feet tall mural that graced one of the intact buildings outside of Manhattan, depicting her and Michael as if they were the modern day version of Gustav Klimt's _The Kiss_ , Jessica couldn't help but slightly regret her rash decision.

Not the kissing, as always that had been most… _enjoyable_.

She'd just prefer it if it hadn't been captured by dozens and dozens of camera's (she was going to have _words_ with Phineas).

Thankfully, Michael kept most of the spotlight on himself (though Susan and the Avengers got plenty of news coverage as well, _especially_ Susan), releasing a 20 minute video of the greatest highlights of the battle.

The ground-shaking punch that took out the first Leviathan, teaming up with Susan to roast another, being smashed into the street by the largest Leviathan of all only to reveal that he was holding the beast up as if he was Atlas instead of Hyperion, then actually _riding_ the damned thing… (she would never admit it out loud, but that gargantuan space whale that was frozen on their front lawn creeped her out a bit)

The short film had gone trending on every possible media outlet in the world. It was the only thing that everybody talked about, and as such, they also talked about some of the things they noticed in the video, and which Michael kept bringing up in the interviews that he kept doing almost perpetually now that most of the clean-up had been handed over to Toomes (there had been some brief legal scuffle about who got to haul the aliens away, but Hogarth had jumped into that fight like a superpowered shark smelling blood, and though Jessica hadn't bothered to pay much attention to it, she knew that Michael's top lawyer would get away with what she wanted).

Judging by the heated debates online, on the radio, and on television, just about everybody in the world was screaming bloody murder at the news that a group of powerful politicians (which most people hadn't even known had formed a group in the first place) had ordered a nuclear strike on a civilian target without any efforts of evacuation or warning beforehand.

The fact that this was an international group (meaning that some of the people that authorized a strike on American citizens weren't even affiliated with the US at all) almost caused an international shit-show as the Government (eager to save face) started pointing fingers, but the most damning verdict of all came from a single statement made by a tired Steve Rogers.

Humanity's first supersoldier had ditched his iconic suit that Jessica had grown up seeing in comics and animated shows, instead wearing camouflage-patterned cargopants and a t-shirt with the US-military logo displayed prominently. It seemed the time-displaced man had found a home amongst the soldiers that had been there during the War for New York, and was still hanging around and assisting with the clean-up and search and rescue missions only days after recovering from the battle.

And _boy_ had he needed to recover. Just like Michael, the Avengers had been in the thick of the battle for hours, but unlike Michael, not all of them were ridiculously durable. Thor was relatively fine, other than his exhaustion, a rare thing for the Asgardian Warrior Prince, and the Hulk's alter-ego Bruce Banner had been spotted walking in and out of Stark Tower looking relatively fine. But the ground forces of the Avengers were still operating at human limits, and though they thankfully hadn't suffered any drastic losses, the damage they had incurred over the course of hours had piled up to form an ugly picture.

The two S.H.I.E.L.D.-agents that had been spotted (nodoy knew whether their codenames were revealed, or were given to them by the internet, but they were called Black Widow and Hawkeye) were the worst off, the archer having lost his bow and the use of his right arm (Jessica had seen the pictures of the stark white bone jutting through flesh, it hadn't looked pretty), and the Widow having lost some of her beauty as her face was marred by a deep gash, going almost from the lobe of her ear to the bridge of her nose (though Jessica thought that the scar at least would be _badass_ ).

Peggy Carter had burst onto the scene, leading the military with a furious zeal and busting alien heads with brutal enthusiasm, but had taken a shot to the knee shortly afterwards. She refused to leave the field, however, coordinating the military and providing back-up to the Captain using long-range weaponry pilfered from the very alien that had shot her.

And the Captain... well, the Captain certainly hadn't taken lightly to his girl getting hurt. Before, he had been a symbol of hope as the star on his chest and shield nearly shone with his iron conviction that hung around him like an aura almost. Wherever he went, backs straightened and eyes hardened, people from all walks of life moving in unison at his commands.

And then Peggy got shot and Steve Roger's got angry... and as the world now knew, Steve Roger's was _scary_ when angry. He didn't go berserk, or anything at like that at all (which just made him even scarier), but that same aura from before, warm and protecting, suddenly turned ice-cold and calculating. The sheer brutality in some of the moves he used (the one where he picked up an alien, flipped it over his head, and drove it hard enough into the road to fold its spine in half with an audible snap was one of the many memorable gifs now floating around the internet) combined with his calm, almost blank expression was enough to give a platoon of Chitauri pause merely when he straightened to look at them with that cold glare.

Of course, throwing himself into the fight like that had not been without cost, and it hadn't taken Jessica's sharp eyes going over the news footage of him to notice the way the skin was gnarled and pinched together from what she could see peeking out underneath the sleeves on his beefed up arms. Massive third-degree burns covered the upper-right side of the Captain's chest and arms, something that was revealed when he was interviewed during the clean-up, where he hammered the final nail into the WSC's coffin.

A news team had managed to slip past the cordon that had been set up, a young woman by the name of Christine Everhart practically jumping the Captain after he took a break from hauling rubble in order to clear the roads.

"Mister Rogers! Mister Rogers, sir! What do you have to comment on the news that the World Security Council condemned 8,5 million people to die in a plan that analysts all over the world have pointed out was doomed to fail from the start?!"

As one, without even so much as a word or order, surrounding platoons of soldiers had dropped everything they were doing and prepared to drag the suddenly terrified looking woman off the premises in order to give their living legend a break, but all it took was a single nonchalant wave of the Captain's hand (which incidentally showed off more of his burned skin, already healing rapidly), and the soldiers fell back, despite the fact none of them had to answer to him, and a couple of them even outranked him.

But this was _Captain America_.

For just about everybody there, the legends told about him by their fathers and grandfathers had been the entire reason they signed up for service in the first place.

Taking into consideration that they had fought side by side with him in one of the most desperate battles for humanity's survival in recent memory (or ever, really) and there wasn't a doubt in Jessica's mind that those guys would follow Steve Rogers into hell and back without question.

As the Captain toweled some of the sweat off his dirt-stained forehead, the ninety year old soldier gazed straight into the camera with a look that showed every single one of those years.

"Seventy years ago… I intended to sacrifice my life in order to stop a madman from launching devastating weapons at some of the largest and most vital cities in the world, New York being one of them. And now, after seventy years… I wake up to a world where my own government tried to do the same."

And with those morose words, Captain America turned away from the camera intent on saving as many people as he could. And just like that, the political careers of some of the most powerful people in the world had been instantaneously and absolutely _shredded_.

Being compared to the Red Skull, by what was basically the living embodiment of Liberty and Freedom?

It didn't matter who you were, or how many friends you had.

You were done for.

She had to give it to Fury though, she mused as she slowly floated past the building with her and Michael's kiss on it. She started heading towards her destination, taking in all the destruction she saw, floating over burnt-out tanks that had been dragged off the roads and the ruined remains of helicopters still embedded in the sides of buildings.

The Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. (who she only knew through tales of Michael and Phineas) had been quick to distance himself from the WSC, citing his now public refusal of their orders ('since it's a stupid-ass decision, I've elected to ignore it' was quickly becoming a meme) as only part of a larger string of discussions in which he spoke out against the Council (making most of them available to the public, though edited to leave out classified information, had been a stroke of brilliance, Fury's caustic sense of humor making him an internet sensation overnight).

Pointing towards Damage Control as an ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. branch that had been voluntarily put under federal jurisdiction as one of many steps Fury has tried to take to get out from under the thumb of the WSC (and the more was revealed about them, the more people understood that sentiment), Fury managed to spin a narrative in which S.H.I.E.L.D. was an organization that tried it's best to do right by humanity, but was consistently hamstringed by executive meddling.

Jessica knew that this was a load of bull (some of the heavy weaponry in Othrys' armory was directly based off of S.H.I.E.L.D. R&D concerning the Tesseract after all), but while Phineas was sitting on the kind of dirt that could spell a _lot_ of trouble for the agency, Michael hadn't chosen to use it just yet.

It was part of a larger mind-game between him and Fury, Michael had told her when she had asked about it when they had been lying in their bed (after thinking, for however briefly, that the giant had sacrificed himself to save Earth, Jessica had simply grabbed all her shit, dumped it in a bewildered looking Michael's room, and then simply told him 'I sleep here now'. Michael had briefly appeared to want to argue, before he shut his mouth with a sigh, and gave a shrug of his massive shoulders).

She and Sterns had agreed that once things were finally cooled down enough, they would finally confront Michael on his inexplicable knowledge, apparent mind games and ultimate goals. They had gone along with a lot of things the Titan had asked for them ever since they had begun working for him (hell, Sterns had followed the man to another _continent_ , but the way he anticipated, and was playing off, an _alien invasion_?

That just crossed the line. They _deserved_ answers at this point.

She knew that Phineas and Harper wouldn't care much about Michael's motivations, and Burstein and Hansen were still completely absorbed in studying that weird ass seed with the absolutely _massive_ root system (it took up an entire quarter of the bio-tech wing, so Phineas had to find a way to move around some walls in order to give the two scientists a bigger lab, or else have weird, fleshy roots spread across the hallways). Pangborn would have questions as well, but he was fairly new, so was unlikely to push his powerful boss, and the Asgardian ex-Berserker was… well, an Asgardian ex-Berserker.

Despite having lived peacefully amongst humans for the past thousand years or so, Jessica very much doubted that the alien warrior had the same view on morals as she did.

And then she had to put that whirlwind of thoughts out of her mind, since she had arrived at her destination. An upscale rehabilitation center in New York, far enough removed from Manhattan that the building was hardly damaged, though Jessica could hear the telltale sound of diesel generators working to compensate for the energy grid being offline in most of New York (thankfully most of the waterlines were still functional, though Manhattan itself had been deemed a warzone, with nothing working there).

Despite this being a classier neighborhood, Jessica still spotted tags in several alleyways, some artistic depictions of scenes from the One Day War, but most were just hasty scribbled hate-messages against the WSC, and even a few at aliens in general (though people were split on Thor and thus Asgardians. On the one hand, they had been worshipped as Gods in the past, and Thor had clearly fought his hardest to save New York. On the other hand, they had been worshipped by _Vikings_ , and it had been Loki of _Asgard_ that had led the Chitauri on their murderspree).

Taking a deep breath, Jessica slowly descended down to the street, internally wincing when she saw people look up and point at her. Lightly touching down, she was somewhat thankful that she wasn't immediately swarmed by the gawking pedestrians, so she quickly shoved open the door to the rehab center and made her way inside.

She knew that if it hadn't been for her healing factor, there had been a large chance of her ending up in such a place in her youth when she had resorted to drinking enough liquor to kill a full-grown bear. As such, places like this always gave her the creeps, but she just squared her shoulders and moved forwards, stalking towards the gleaming reception desk.

"Hi. I'm here to see Trish Walker? I have an appointment." She quickly said.

"Your name plea-" the words died in the receptionist's throat as her eyes travelled up to Jessica's face, her expression turning white as a sheet.

For a moment, Jessica was somewhat confused, before she noticed the slight, subconscious flick of the other woman's eyes to the side. Turning to look over her shoulder, Jessica saw a tv hanging on the wall, and couldn't quite contain an annoyed sigh.

Once again, it showed Michael riding his Leviathan, crashing it into the side of the one she had been struggling with. And as she had seen a hundred times by now, the miniature her on screen shot forwards, grabbed the gargantuan thing by the tail, and slammed it onto the spike of the Chrysler building, the gleaming tip effortlessly spearing through the top of the tough skull.

It had been stuck on that spike for two whole days until it had finally been removed yesterday after Toomes called up Michael, telling him that even he couldn't get rid of the thing without damaging the building, so Michael flew up, and simply lifted the spacewhale straight up into the air, before neatly depositing it on the road train bearing Toomes' logo.

Her boyfriend- ahem, her _boss_ , of course, had milked that publicity stunt for all that it was worth, seemingly effortlessly smiling at just the right moments for the journalists to capture his proud expressions and confident grins.

Turning back towards the gob smacked secretary, Jessica gave the woman a caustic smile, before tapping the counter.

"Trish Walker?"

"R-Right! Room 11-B, a lovely view, no expenses spared!" the other woman was quick to say, handing Jessica a visitor's badge with trembling fingers.

Pinning it on with a sigh, Jessica turned on her heel and made her way over towards the elevators, ignoring the fearful woman behind her.

For all that the forces of Titan Solutions and the Avengers were hailed by the majority of the population as extraordinary heroes, people that went above and beyond what was humanly feasible in order to save the planet, there was still a vocal minority that feared them for their powers.

Fear mongers sprang up on street corners, on internet forums, even in politics, pointing towards the large scale destruction of New York, and screaming at the top of their lungs: 'What next?!'

One glance at the various footage of Michael, or Thor, or even her, and it wouldn't take a genius to figure out that they were only following the law out of courtesy. The rules and guidelines that guided society and kept it from collapsing into anarchy no longer applied to them, because, honestly, who in their right minds would try to enforce them?

According to the populists, at any moment, a cop could give her a parking ticket or something, and Jessica would end up ripping a skyscraper out of the ground and beating people over the head with it, simply out of general annoyance.

And sad as it was, there were people out there who believed it.

She was drawn from her musings as the lift finished its ascent, opening its doors with a cheery ding. Stepping out, Jessica's eyes were visually assaulted by the aggressively boring pastel colors that covered _everything_.

Seeing a shock of blond hair seated in what appeared to be a lounge area with large windows overlooking the outskirts of the city (meaning that thankfully there was no view of the destruction that was now downtown Manhattan), Jessica quickly made her way over towards the young woman, who only briefly looked up from the book she had been reading.

Pale blue eyes met softly glowing ones, and a scowl appeared on the woman's face, before she buried it in her book again.

Now close enough to touch her if she reached out, Jessica frowned slightly, before she let out a sigh as she sat down on the small chair in front of the scowling woman.

"Hey Trish."

Trish Walker, former upcoming pop-star, currently in rehab dealing with a drug addiction, only briefly glanced up at her adoptive sister, before her eyes settled on the pages in front of her, though Jessica could tell she wasn't even reading them, since her eyes didn't move from left to right, staring straight ahead instead.

Knowing that pushing her sister would only work against her, Jessica leaned back a bit as she scanned the room, trying to ignore the stares that she and Trish were getting from the few people that were present, though they all thankfully kept their distance.

"This place seems… _nice_." Jessica managed to bite out as she glanced at the frilly tablecloths and annoyingly vague motivational posters that covered the walls.

She wasn't hating on rehab centers (despite her own aversion to them), and was happy they provided the care that they did, but this place…

It just wasn't Trish.

For all her faults (and as her sister, Jessica could list _many_ , just like Trish could list all of Jessica's faults off the top of her head as well), the one thing that best defined the dour woman sitting across from her was vibrancy.

She threw herself into everything she did with a passion that amazed Jessica at times, even when she knew that the one calling the shots and steering her sister was actually their fame-obsessed mother (who, after a lifetime of disinterest bordering on neglect, suddenly hadn't stopped trying to call her ever since footage of her tossing around aliens became public. Eventually, Jessica asked Phineas to simply filter out any and all calls from the woman).

But to see her sister, the one who was amazing at dancing, singing, or even just conversing with people over the most varied of topics, sitting here in a boring woolen sweater and slacks, surrounded by posters of kittens and colors ranging from lime green to bubblegum pink…

It didn't _fit_.

Again, Trish ignored her sister, so Jessica leaned forwards a bit, carefully placing a hand on the blonde's shin. As if burned, Trish immediately pulled away, drawing her knees to her chest and shooting Jessica a venomous look, who tried her best to hide that brief flash of pain at the hostility her oldest friend displayed.

"Are you… doing ok? Getting the… _help_ you need and… stuff?" Jessica tried, mentally wincing at just how spectacularly bad she was at comforting other people, especially when they didn't want to be comforted in the first place.

"I'm doing _fine_. And if I need help, it's certainly not from _you_." Trish bit out, and this time Jessica's hurt was transformed into a flash of annoyance.

She loved Trish, she really did. But it just wasn't in her nature to let other people walk over her, not even family. Rising to her feet, Jessica placed her fists on her hips, shifting her trusty leather duster as she did (after it saved her life countless times during the One Day War, she never left Othrys without it).

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jessica asked vehemently, and finally it seemed she got through to her sister, who with a snarl threw the book down as she sprung to her feet as well.

"It means you _can't_ help me!"

"Look, I'm trying here-"

"Then _don't_! I never asked for you! I never wanted you to ruin my life! So why the hell won't you leave it alone! Go back to your happy life in your castle, with your prince Charming and your superpowers so you can go spear aliens on buildings, and leave the normal people the hell alone!"

Jessica drew a breath through clenched teeth, her fists balling at her side as her eyes started to burn.

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?! _You_ didn't ask for me?! What the fuck did you think I felt?! My family fucking _died_ , you think I'm happy about it?! I. was. _Alone_! Alone, and scared, and a _freak_ , and the only person who supported me, the _only_ fucking person that's _supposed_ to be on my side, was _you_! You were my sister, for fuck's sake, and look what you did to yourself!" Jessica roared back, and from the corner of her eyes, she saw the other residents run like hell from their confrontation, willing to be anywhere but near the lady who redecorated the Chrysler Building with alien brains.

Trish didn't seem to care though, getting right up in Jessica's face.

" _You_ did this to me! Nobody sees _me_ anymore! I'm not even a person now, all I am is Jessica Jones' little _powerless_ , _useless_ sister! I was gonna be a _star_! Everybody loved me! Everybody knew me! Everybody was happy for me, _but you_! Admit it! You were jealous of me, you always have been! I was the pretty one, _I_ was the popular one, and what did _you_ have!? All you had was being pissed off at me for being more successful than you, even when I gave you my own money!"

" _I_ was the jealous one!? Don't you hear yourself?! How often have I seen you look at me with nothing but _greed_ whenever I used my power!"

"Of course I did! I worked my ass off for everything I had! And nothing I ever did would _ever_ give me what you had! _Nothing_!"

"I didn't ask for _any_ of this shit!"

"Bullshit! You didn't have _those_!" Trish spat out, pointing harshly at Jessica's burning eyes, making the superwoman lean back slightly, causing her crying sister to step even closer, once again her hand stabbing forwards, pointing at Jessica's chest.

"And you sure as fucking hell didn't have _those_! So don't give me that same old story that you just want a 'normal life'! _You_ wanted more power, even when you already had more than I would _ever_ get! All I wanted was an equal! All I fucking asked for was a _sister_!" Trish spat, tears streaming down her face.

Jessica was breathing heavily herself, and judging from her blurry vision, she was crying as well, hissing and smoking tears slowly dripping from her glowing eyes. Her vision was clear enough to see her sister pull her arm back though, clearly prepared to throw one of the most telegraphed punches in history.

Not willing to let her sister break her hand on her Amber Armor skin, Jessica's arm quickly snapped up, intercepting the weak blow and gently directing it to the side. That didn't stop Trish from trying again and again, her stumbling attacks intermingled with heaving sobs and unintelligible curses, suddenly reminding Jessica of herself, not so long ago, after that disastrous mission with Harper's team.

 _'Seems we're more alike than we give ourselves credit for_. _'_ Jessica thought morosely to herself, before deciding on how she would deal with her sobbing sister.

Stepping into a flailing punch, Jessica engulfed Trish in a hug, feeling how the blonde first stiffened, before she started struggling. The struggling quickly subsided until only the shocking of Trish's torso remained, as the young woman released all the emotions that Jessica's visit had brought up again, slim arms coming around to hug the superwoman close to her as she buried her face in her sister's shoulder.

Furiously blinking away the hissing tears from her eyes so they wouldn't fall and hurt Trish, Jessica spoke up in a thick voice.

"You idiot. You _have_ a sister. You've always have."

* * *

 **Five days after the Invasion**

Erik Stevens, known to some as Killmonger, known to the world as N'Jadaka, son of N'Jobu, Rightful King of Wakanda, sat on his throne and pondered. He knew he shouldn't be: a King's duties never ended, especially over the course of the last month, as he had been steadily trying to get Uganda within the fold of his new Kingdom, which turned out to be one challenge after the next.

Not the actual conquering of Uganda, mind you, no _that_ was the easy part.

Between the War Dogs still loyal to him, his own extensive paramilitary training, and the vastly better technology available to his forces, he was capable of taking down all of Africa at a speed that would make Napoleon himself bow his head in reverence of his tactical skill and military might.

No matter how much some of his soldier grumbled about not using the War Rhinos properly.

Ahh, those _fucking_ Rhinos.

Just one more part in this new world that Erik now found himself in, just one more point that hammered home a bitter truth.

He was a stranger to these parts.

When his group of military advisors had led him on an inspection of the troops, Erik had spoken up with some incredulity when the Rhinos were introduced as part of his new army.

" _Why_ are we using a cavalry made up of wild, dangerous, barely controllable animals… when we _literally_ have hovercrafts and flying tanks, _right there_?!"

It was one of the Dora Milaje who spoke up, her tone barely even concealing the disdain in her voice.

"Because they are part of our _culture_. They belong with Wakanda and its _people_."

The pointed stare she had given him had made it quite clear just who she considered to be part of the Wakandan people, and evidently, he didn't make the cut.

Of course, that upstart woman was now enjoying a little time-out in order to cool her head down in his dungeons (after misconduct in her earlier operations was 'suddenly' found, no reason to come across to the people as a petty tyrant), but the point that she had made (no matter how disrespectful) still stood.

Was he really part of these people?

He had read up on their history. He knew their language. He shared their ancestry.

But was he really a _part_ of them?

After a year on the throne, a year filled each and every day with little instances like the Rhinos and Erik had to admit something to himself that he had been trying to ignore ever since he left T'Chaka's cooling corpse at his feet as he ascended the steps to the throne he now sat upon.

No. These may be _his_ people… but he was not a part of _them_.

To the Wakandans, he was an outsider, a _foreigner_ , as white as the people that he had seen as oppressors all his life during his childhood and adolescence in the States.

He had had plans beyond merely avenging his father's murder. It was his main motivation for every action he had ever taken, a driving force that propelled him ever forwards, even now. But he knew to look beyond that, and he had found a goal for himself.

A united people, the worldwide uplifting of all who he considered his brothers and sisters, against those who would keep them down.

Except…

Looking around, Erik saw precious little unity.

Even the Wakandans, steeped in tradition as they were, were secretly divided. Just look at what had happened when he called for the destabilization of Uganda. Before he could actually make a move, he had to overhaul the Wakandan military doctrine (they had wanted to _walk_ there! Using _spears_!), which had caused for some backlash.

Not enough for him to lose his support base thankfully, since he knew enough about unstable nations that he recognized when a leader needed to bow to the wishes of the people if they didn't want a rebellion on their hands.

But enough that only some of innovations were put into practice (he had to compromise with the Rhinos. They were now shackled together in pairs, pulling what was essentially a flatbed for troops and supplies, and were mounted with a gunnery platform), but by that time, his cousin had gotten word of his plans, which could only mean that his own rogue War Dog network had gotten info straight out of Wakanda itself.

Infiltration was always a possibility, Erik himself knew that all too well, but collaboration was more likely.

And so, when his own operatives busted down the doors of the Ugandan Parliament, with his army mobilized and already on the borders, ready to force a surrender before the battle even begun, all they were met with was an empty Parliament and an army that had already decommissioned their weapons.

The Black Panther had struck again. Erik had initially tried to outlaw people calling his cousin by that title, since it was connected to the position of the Protector of the Wakandan people, something that an exile obviously can't claim. His advisors had pointed out that, exiled or not, T'Challa was still enhanced with the Heart-Shaped Herb, marking him a Champion of Bast, whereas Erik himself was not, and the wishes of Gods superseded that of Kings.

Since the new batch of Herbs was still being carefully grown, Erik had simply decided to take the title of Gold Leopard instead, a counterpoint to the moniker his cousin still so desperately clung to. A bit pretentious perhaps, but he was King.

Pretentious was included in the job description.

He didn't know whether he should strangle or thank McCole for burning the Herbs when the giant had left Wakanda. On the one hand, had he not, then Erik could've strengthened his claim by taking the Herb for himself, thus making him Bast's champion as well.

No matter your political hang-ups, it's kinda hard to rally against a King who was literally chosen by your Gods.

On the other hand, had the Herbs survived, then the faction that secretly opposed Erik might have tried to pull something, use it as justification to shove another candidate for the throne forwards.

After all, they never did find little Shuri.

No, perhaps this was for the best. A few seeds, taken from their vaults, carefully grown and maintained, under lock and key and heavily guarded at all times. In another four to five months they would be ready, and he, and _only_ he, would be able to become Bast's Chosen.

Would _that_ make him a part of these people? And if it did, would it matter?

When Erik had been younger, he had dreamed of this moment. The moment where he would sit on this throne, look out over this palace hall, stand and call all of Africa to _unite_! For all black people around to world to _rise up_! As one!

' _For Africa to unite… why do I sometimes get the feeling that I'm the only one around here that actually wants that to happen?'_ Erik thought to himself as he stared somberly at the scene in front of him.

Which brings us back as to why a Wakandan King shouldn't allow himself to drift off into thoughts so much.

Because standing in the hall were two men, yelling at each other at the top of their lungs. One was part of the Foreign Delegation of Wakanda, the other a man the Ugandan people had quickly (and halfheartedly) shoved forwards as their new leader, hence he was the man Wakanda had to deal with.

Erik just _knew_ , deep in his bones, that this was the work of T'Challa. His War Dogs hadn't found anything conclusive ( _yet_ ), but it was clear even to the casual observer that Uganda was aware their Parliament was spirited away to safety, and was simply waiting for their return in order to be freed from their conquerors.

Because, no matter how much Erik's diplomats tried to get it through the Ugandan's minister's head that Wakanda was here to _help_ , to uplift, they were still seen as warmongering and expansionist.

No better than the white men, centuries before.

Hearing his great dream of unification and liberty being likened to what was in Erik's mind the greatest enemy to their people…

That had broken something deep inside him, something old and… _naïve_.

' _If they will not unify against the whites… then they **will**_ _unify against an even graver threat_. _'_

He gracefully rose from from his seat, allowing the midday sun to shine upon the flawless ( _'fuck you McCole, I had **earned** those'scars'_) skin of his chest and arms, visible under the open, sleeveless robe he wore. Erik slowly descended the steps leading up to his throne, everybody in the hall (including the Ugandan delegation, as well as the diplomats from the surrounding nations that had been sent to Wakanda the moment rumors began to float around about Uganda's capitulation) having immediately fallen to their knee the moment he moved.

"Look at you. Tearing at each other's throats, like rabid dogs. I came to Wakanda, for _two_ reasons!" Erik said as he kept walking, roaring the last two words, gratified to see those closest to him flinch away from the heat he was giving off.

"To right an injustice…. And to unify my people. _All_ of my people. Not just Wakandan. Not just Ugandan. Not just Kenyan, Ethiopian, Nigerian! _All_ of Africa, _united_! _All_ of the black peoples, _UNITED_!" he roared as he spun around, his robes flaring wildly, his eyes burning with a hellish glow, heat rolling off him in waves.

Stalking towards the Ugandan minister, Erik softened his voice, but that just made it sound all the more dangerous.

"And yet… here I stand… and I offer you _salvation_! I offer you the protection of Wakanda, _and you throw it back in my face_! For what purpose, I ask you?" Erik growled lowly, letting his eyes roam across every foreign diplomat present, enrapturing them with his speech.

"What do you gain, by shunning the wonders of Wakanda? What will you do, should the sky split open above your heads? What can you _possibly_ accomplish, when aliens start raiding your cities? _Wakanda_ shall be safe. Or shields are strong, our military mighty: _Wakanda_ will have nothing to fear from invaders from the stars. But what do _you_ have!?" Erik said, whirling around in front of the throne's steps, a wave of heat pushing back the closest advisors, ministers and diplomats.

"New York had the largest military might on the planet to aid them, yet still its people died in droves! What do _you_ have?! New York had the Avengers to defend itself, yet still it's without power or water! What do _you_ have?! New York has a _Titan_ , Hyperion himself, to come to its rescue, and yet _still_ the Capital of the West lies in ruins! _What do you have_?!"

As his voice echoed throughout the absolutely silent chamber, Erik allowed his voice to die down again, slowly walking amongst the diplomats as they all looked up at him in question, fear, and a few even in wonder.

"I will tell you, what you have. Only the _one_ thing…"

Allowing a smirk to come to his face, eyes burning like a demon, Erik glanced across _his_ hall, _his_ palace, _his_ people.

"… _ME_."

* * *

 **Seven days after the Invasion**

"Yes Mrs. Hoag. Yes, I understand that pooling Damage Control and Stark Industries was the best cause of action. Yes, I agree. No. _No_ , I don't think that we should've continued fighting Hogarth. Why? You mean, other than her breaking us in half like a toothpick or…? Madam, I assure you, I am as respectful as I can _possibly_ be-"

"Give that to me. Hello, Mrs. Hoag? Yes, I apologize for Mr. Stark's remarks, I quite agree. Then again, I suppose we are all somewhat stressed these days. How is your niece doing, I understand she was visiting New York during the One Day War? Oh, that's wonderful news, congratulations…"

Tony watched as Pepper stalked off to another room of Stark Tower (soon to be named Avengers Tower), her red hair fluttering in the wind coming through some of the massive holes that lined the tall structure (it was only due to the superb engineering that had gone into its construction that had kept it one of the few highrises still standing tall in this block, where the fighting had been heaviest), the hole right next to Tony having made when Thor smashed a Leviathan's head into his building.

Seeing the woman he loved stride confidently through the rubble of their home, not a hitch in her step as a gaggle of assistants tried their best to keep up with the woman who was coordinating the largest relief effort on American soil since the Civil War, made Tony feel warm inside his metal chest.

God knew he couldn't do what she did.

Well, he could, but it would involve unhealthy amounts of caffeine, numerous sleepless nights and the creation of an army of gadgets and robotics.

Which is exactly what he had done.

It had taken him almost two days to recover from the War for New York, the various scrapes and bruises making themselves known with a vengeance once the battle had been completed, especially since some of the plating had been severy damaged, torn edges cutting him deeply on several places all over his body (thankfully nothing lethal or crippling, though the sliver of metal that had been steadily digging into his calf had been absolute agony, and he was _still_ limping because of it). On top of that, the disassembly line of Stark Tower was non-functional, so he had been stuck in that banged up suit for hours until JARVIS had managed to fly in the required tools to make a spare one on the spot, which certainly hadn't done his aching body any favors either.

Still, that wasn't to say he had done nothing during those two days (well, to be honest, he, along with the other Avengers, had mostly just hit the sack and slept for a day or so, at least those of them that hadn't required immediate medical attention), though thankfully by that point Pepper had flown in and started directing Stark Industries resources to fly in emergency rations, tents and a whole army of porta potties, as well as coordinating with the government, the army, firemen, the police, Unicef, the UN, hell even Titan Solutions.

In comparison to that, all Tony had done is make JARVIS flick on the Arc Reactor again, and ask him to route the power to the surrounding blocks. JARVIS had been a godsend during those days. The AI had taken Tony's sleepily mumbled orders, and had started working on them even as Tony was lying in bed (thankfully the bedroom was still mostly intact), completely dead to the world.

Tony's suits from Malibu flew over to New York in a matter of hours, helping with the clearing of rubble and aliens, and even building generators and the like on the spot, made from more raw material that was flown in on Tony's planes, which JARVIS steered using their autopilot function.

Between Pepper and JARVIS, and the massive resources available to them, they had been able to clear Manhattan to the point that relief workers managed to comb the epicenter of the battle after only a day of clean-up.

And then Tony had arisen from his bed on the third day, drank the strongest coffee he could, rolled up his sleeves, and started to get to _work_.

He had seen Titan Solution's legion of drones both during and after the battle, and their inhuman levels of coordination immediately tipped him off to what he figured was Hyperion's biggest secret: the man had an AI of his own. While Tony was _very_ interested in the how's and the when's and the why's (though perhaps in the last case, that should be a 'why not?') saving the people of New York and aiding in the relief efforts was a priority.

Tony was, above all else, a hero at (his metal) heart.

So, he used the tech he had incorporated into his suit that allowed it to home in on his wristbands and form around him and repurposed it to work individually with smaller components. After only hours, a design was sent to JARVIS, who immediately brought the closest SI production facilities online and began pumping out evac/med/relief suits, as well as a legion of small homing beacons.

The small beacons were capable of getting into even the smallest spaces looking for survivors, and coordinated the larger pieces of machinery for a variety of purposes, from extraction to simple heating.

Then he had recalled every single bit of material and machinery that originally was destined to be shipped out towards the atrocious road network of the States, and instead diverted it towards New York in order to start repairs.

Sure, the contractors would be pissed, but they could hardly deny Tony Stark when he was trying to provide aid in what some news stations called a humanitarian crisis.

And so it went for another three days, simply spent using every tool that was at his disposal (and making those that _weren't_ ) in trying to save and shelter as many people as he could, to clean up the city as fast as possible, and to initiate repairs wherever he was able to.

After that building frenzy (which came to an end when Pepper physically dragged him to bed on account of him having slept maybe six hours during that entire time), had come the political side of things.

Endless interviews and talk-shows, board meetings, calls with investors, the city, the government, the army, the army _again_ (they certainly sounded pissed the second time the had called, though Tony supposed he could understand the sentiment: after they had begun their speech with "Clearly Stark, you can see that keeping that suit of yours so selfishly for yourself instead of sharing it with us-", he had hung up on them without even saying a word).

But now, after a week, things were _finally_ calming down.

"Stark! Where do you want this… lumpy… metal… _thing_?" a booming voice came from behind him.

 _'Spoke too soon, did I?'_

Turning around, Stark looked at the Norse God of Thunder with tired eyes, weary of what the well-meaning, monstrously strong alien had done this time in his attempts to 'help' renovate Avengers Tower (the fact that out of all of them, Thor was the only one not still recovering and was thus running around with minimal supervision certainly didn't help matters).

Directly after the battle, Miss Jones and Mr. McCole still embraced in a passionate kiss high above them, the Avengers had huddled together on Times Square, where Rogers and Carter had managed to erect a barricade for their troops during the battle, but where now a gore-smeared Hulk seemed to be playing fetch with the firebreathing dinosaur with a piece of Leviathan skull.

Tired beyond belief and hurting in more than a few places (Roger's injuries especially were rather gruesome), the Avengers had quickly decided that their primary objectives should be:

1\. Locate and secure Loki.

2\. Locate and secure the Tesseract.

3\. Locate Selvig and ask whether there's any danger of the portal reopening for whatever reason.

As they trudged through mounds of alien corpses away from the tired, but star-struck soldiers, the Avengers shared a collective look of incredulity when the Hulk, after a slight whine and a massive pout, lifted one muscled, green arm and waved at the glowing T-Rex with an alien head in her jaws.

"Bye bye, kitty!"

If they hadn't been dead on their feet, they would've reacted with some more shock other than widening their eyes and shaking their heads, but in the state they were in, they simply shrugged their shoulders and moved on.

They could be properly be surprised by stuff again later, _after_ they made sure the villain wasn't going anywhere, the McGuffin was secured, and the alien bastards weren't going to make a surprise return.

Unfortunately, while they _did_ find Loki (still in the crater where Hulk left him, with an almost laconic expression of utter defeat on his pallid face) and Selvig (awake but rambling and seemingly not entirely there), they _didn't_ find the thing that had started this entire mess.

The Tesseract was missing.

Tony immediately had a suspect in mind, even if the man himself has been at the other end of the universe when the Tesseract had been stolen, as everyone who had watched the man's highlight reel could attest to. Tony had seen the footage of what had awaited Earth on the other side multiple times, though he somewhat regretted rewatching it so often in great detail since those living mountains now featured quite prominently in his nightmares (those nightmares now also frequently featured him inside his suit, but instead of feeling like a second skin like it always had, it now felt like a coffin as he was forced to watch his ammo count sit at zero, his systems steadily losing power, _clawed hands and mutated bodies slowly burying him in a wave of chitin_ -).

Besides getting nightmares from what had awaited Earth from whatever region of space McCole sent that nuke to (and resolving to invent an ammunition/fuel delivery system to work with his suit in the field), he had also managed to figure out roughly where the Titan had ended up in the universe based on that horrifying footage. The answer? Well, there had been something bright off to one side in one of the frames which could have been a quasar. If it was, the emission spectra matched those of the core of the NGC 1417 galaxy, which would place the Chitauri fleet more than 50 megaparsecs from Earth.

In lsimple terms, McCole ended up a _long_ fucking way from home.

Kind of hard to steal something when you're at the other side of the universe.

Still, the man was known to have enhanced his employees (which made Tony guiltily rethink the policy of not giving his own employees any armor. He already had the designs for a suit for Pepper and Happy in the works though, and Rhodey would need a tune up to the War Machine as well), so there was every chance that some of Hyperion's men snucked in during the chaos and made off with the Jewel of Odin's Court.

Still, it hadn't been the time to confront his rival and show division amongst Earth's greatest heroes, so Tony had decided to set it out of his mind until later, when there weren't massive refugee camps in what had been a bustling metropolis only days ago.

Instead, after securing Loki (which involved the Hulk wrapping the exhausted looking god in rebar) and Selvig (which involved Thor gently trying to put the confused scientist to bed in one of the few undisturbed rooms of the Tower), Tony offered that once they had been patched up a bit, he'd buy them all some take-out (there was this Shawarma place he had been wanting try for some time now) and told them they all had a room available if they needed it.

If Barton and Romanov noticed that the offer was extended somewhat frostily when it came to them, then they didn't show it. Tony was _fairly_ sure that they were on the side of the good guys (they did fight the good fight right beside him after all, but once he had a good look through S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files he'd know for _certain_ ) but with the actions of the WSC coming to light, who were technically their bosses (though likely not for much longer), nobody felt really charitable to the two superspies at the moment.

Even then, it hadn't mattered much, as both declined, Barton saying that there were people that he desperately needed to see and Romanov explaining that… come to think of it, she never actually said where she was going, she simply disappeared somewhere during the day.

Huh.

The other Avengers had all gladly accepted though. Bruce was easy to convince, of course, since he had already been living with Betty Ross in the Tower for about a month now. Now that the gamma-mutated scientist wasn't (actively) hunted by the military anymore, there wasn't a chance in hell that he was going to leave his girlfriend's side.

Surprisingly, Rogers and Carter agreed as well, though Captain America of course, being the living legend that he was, declined sleeping in the tower while the clean-up was still going on, instead preferring a simple bunk in one of the army tents set up within the city after his shift was done.

Carter was far too busy running around trying to do damage control and keep Fury in power in the fallout of the WSC's publicized stupidity (the reveal of their call to give Abomination a medal of honor and to be included in the Avengers had caused Harlem to pick up arms again, the destruction wrought there by Blonsky now in everybody's mind as they glanced at the decimation visited upon Manhattan by the Chitauri) to spend any long stretches of time at the Tower, but JARVIS had caught her returning to Steve's tent every night.

Thor had opted to stay at the Tower simply because he had nowhere else to go. The Viking God had tried his best to explain the intricacies of his arrival on Earth, and as Tony understood it, it was a sort of fuel problem.

Thor's father, the mighty Odin, had used a mysterious and taxing force to send his eldest son across the stars to Midgard, to the point that he couldn't muster enough force to retrieve said son as well. The original plan had been to use whatever little force remained to send a device instead, which in turn would harness the power of the Tesseract in order to send Thor and Loki back to Asgard.

Without the Tesseract, that plan was in shambles, and so until the powerful object had been found, or until Odin had grown strong enough over time, Thor was stuck on Earth. While the Norse God had admitted that he was immensely fond of the planet and its people, and thus didn't exactly mind the idea of spending more time amongst humanity, he still had a duty as Crown Prince of Asgard, which included peace-keeping amongst the Nine Realms, which required the Bifrost.

Which, again, required the power of the Tesseract.

So for the foreseeable future, the Asgardian warrior prince was staying at Tony's place, and while the god had a heart of gold, the discrepancy between his alien strength and Earth stuff durability caused for some… growing pains.

"Thor. That _thing_ , is a generator, capable of providing enough energy to power a small home for a _year_. Why did you carry it all the way up here?"

The blonde tower of chiseled muscle frowned slightly as he held the immensely heavy generator a little away from himself with an ease as if it were a giant beachball, instead of the heap of metal and machinery that it actually was, studying it with a penetrating gaze.

"Truly? I thought this might be, you know, one of those _art_ things you humans are so fond of. Does it still work?"

Looking from the sparking, dented, leaking hunk of scrap metal, to the Norse god, and back again, Tony allowed a small sigh to escape him.

"No. No Thor, it doesn't work."

"Oh well then."

And with that, Thor nonchalantly tossed the beat up generator over his shoulder, letting the tons of metal crash into the floorboards with a thunderous noise, before he clapped his greasy hands together, completely oblivious to Tony's wince as he looked at his now ruined floor.

Thor stalked past him, clasping a meaty hand on Tony's shoulder with enough force to nearly send him to his knees in a gesture of fondness, offering the inventor a huge smile.

"Well them, I'm off to get something to eat. I'm starving!"

And with that, the God of Thunder happily stomped out of the room… in the complete opposite direction of where the kitchens were.

Looking from the doorway through which Thor had left to the thoroughly ruined generator now embedded into his floor, Tony allowed himself a small moment of weakness as he leaned against the table, rubbing his forehead with an exhausted sigh.

"That was the only piece on this level that hadn't been damaged…."

Mentally reviewing Thor's actions during the week he had been living with Tony caused the inventor to let out a pained groan.

"It's like living with a superpowered Dummy!"

* * *

 **Nine days after the Invasion**

The sun was hot overhead as Shuri, daughter of Ramonda and T'Chaka, Rightful Princess of Wakanda, tasted dirt. Not of her own volition of course, but because of her current teacher beating her six ways from Sunday.

He called it training.

She called it torture.

He had merely shrugged and said torture could be training too.

Then he had beaten her into the ground again.

"Ged up pickney. We god more training to be done." A heavily accented voice called out behind her, causing her to work herself to trembling arms, looking at the towering man standing in the dirt field with her with a murderous glare.

Training with Klaue had been brutal, but she had advanced quickly (part of her noble Golden Tribe heritage no doubt, she had concluded), to the point that she could hold her own against him and whatever criminal enforcers he sent her against.

She was willing to admit it: her success against far larger opponents had made her overconfident.

The first time she had gone up against the new teacher Klaue had managed to find (briefly she wondered what kind of deal had been struck, then she quickly decided that as long as she got to kill _him_ she honestly couldn't care), she had of course expected a tough fight, but secretly she had also expected to fight him to a draw, or at least to impress him with her skills.

She had lasted two seconds.

That was two months ago.

This time, she had lasted eight.

She worked herself to her feet, suppressing gasps of pain as best she could, trying to force herself back in a combat stance, though she could tell it was sloppy and wobbly just by the dismissive glare in those ice-blue eyes of her teacher.

Instead of attacking her as he usually would, the tall man sized her up and down, before his lips briefly pulled back as he sucked his teeth.

"Why'dja come ta mi, gyal?" he suddenly asked, taking Shuri off guard.

The girl knew better than to let her guard drop though, wary for any distractions that he was trying to blind her with.

"Klaue told you, before he left. We want to kill Michael McCole." She said with conviction as best she could, annoyed at the lisp that came through in her speech, courtesy of a split lip.

Again a frown and a sucking of the teeth, flints of ice staring unwaveringly at her trembling form.

"Ya want ta kill da Titan. He done ya wrong, ya gat badmind wit 'im, yah? So why come ta Jamrock, why ask da Jardies for me ta train ya? Wat do ya 'ave tat would get mi respeck?"

Gritting her teeth as her teacher basically asked her why on Earth he should train her (after beating her to a pulp after _two whole months_ ) she squared her shoulder, staring the man straight in his unnervingly light eyes.

"Because I _am_ going to kill Hyperion. Our training here does not change that. Either I complete your training and kill him, or you send me away and I'll find another. And if he doesn't want me, I'll find another, and another and _another_. I'll _never_ stop, not for you not for _anyone_! Magic, science, training, I'll take it all! And when McCole thinks he's safe, once he thinks he has found peace in this world, I'll burn down _everything_ he has ever held dear, I'll murder _everyone_ he has ever loved, I'll make his accomplishments turn to _ash_ in his mouth. And when he is at the deepest pit of despair, when he'll know a _glimmer_ of the pain I feel, _then_ I'll open up his throat, _just_ like he did to my mom! So either shut up and train me, or get the _fuck_ out of my way!"

Panting after her emotional outburst, Shuri first thought that she had made a grave mistake, not just in dropping her guard (which she hastily brought up again, despite how little pause it would give the man across from her), but also in talking so disrespectfully against her stern teacher, especially when he rubbed his chin slowly, his head lowered slightly so she couldn't see his eyes.

Still, she stood by what she said, even if it got her the beating of a lifetime. She had seen the footage of the battle that McCole had captured, same as about everybody else on the planet, she reckoned. She remembered those massive writhing mountains, that tsunami of chitin and cybernetics, ready to drown her planet with their horrid bodies.

She remembered the struggle that McCole had when dealing with those massive aliens and the screaming energy bolts that slammed into him, over and over and _over_ again.

To her it had been a clear message.

McCole was more powerful than ever… and he _could_ be killed.

But if she wanted to be the cause of the Titan's death, then she would need to become more powerful, more dangerous, a bigger threat than an entire _army_ of aliens, a goal seemingly so impossible, _any_ sacrifice was worth it if she got to complete it nonetheless.

So yes, terrified as she was of her teacher's reaction, she wouldn't take back her words, instead swallowing down the lump in her throat and squaring her shoulders.

And then he looked up at her, pinning her with that icy glare, his lips peeling back in a way that sent a shudder down her spine.

Cracking his neck and popping his knuckles, the man let out a deep chuckle as he slowly approached her, Shuri matching him step for step as she tried to keep some distance between them.

"Aight den gyal, ya gat mi wid tat. _Now_ ya'r reddy, let's get started on some _real_ training… Bushmastah style…"

* * *

 **One day after the Invasion**

In a nice sub-urban home, in a warmly decorated living room, sat a woman on a couch, staring intently at the TV. It showed something that only yesterday had been thought completely impossible by everyone but the craziest of conspiracy theorists. It showed aliens emerging through a tear in the sky, raining down carnage on New York City below.

And it showed the city's defenders as well.

Metal Men, ancient Gods, ragemonsters, even a _T-Rex_!

And a woman…

Black hair, long trenchcoat, flying around through the sky on her own power, crushing the invaders with blows far beyond what humans ever thought they'd be capable of, the result of her power still glaringly visible, speared to the Chrysler Building.

Jessica Jones, they called her, consort to the Titan Hyperion of Othrys, the man who saved the world from aliens and New York from nuclear fire.

As such, people where calling her Theia, Titaness of the shining light of the clear blue sky, due to the glimmering Chrysler spear she was so often depicted with, and of course because in the original myths, Hyperion and Theia had been married.

There hadn't been any news from Othrys about what Jessica Jones' code-name would be (though they had revealed their Gatekeeper Soter), but the name was thrown around so much on social media and news stations, it hardly mattered at this point.

Picking up the remote control as footsteps came towards her from the kitchen, she rewinded the recording of the news segment, watching again as the flying woman took down the Chitauri with heavy blows that spoke of the power of _gods_.

As the steps came to a halt, a warm voice spoke up.

"Are you still watching that? This makes, what, the hundredth time or so?"

The woman didn't even take her eyes of the screen, barely even blinking as she drank in the scenes of violence.

"Of course I am. A mother is always proud of her daughter's achievements, isn't she?" Alisa Jones said, a wide grin stretching across her face, her eyes shining with a disturbing sheen to them.

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** X-Men's Professor X was modeled after Martin Luther King jr. and Magneto was modeled after Malcolm X.

 _As awlays, major shout out to my amazing Patrons, AndrewDC_MAC2, Miu, justlovereadin, Carn Krauss, ReapeScythe, Thordur hrafn, Daniel Dorfman and Samuel Carson! Thanks for your support! I cannot thank you guys enough for willing to support me as you do, so thanks again!_


	34. Two down, Four to go

_**Two down, four to go**_

* * *

"Madam di Pippo, I understand your fears. The creation of a Planetary Defense Force, which I have been advocating ever since the costly One Day War has ended only a few weeks ago, might at first glance contradict with some of the core proposals of the Outer Space Treaty. The creation of a fleet, and a mobile defensive platform, outside of Earth's orbit was a frightening prospect indeed to those who drafted said Treaty. _Fifty years_ ago, Madam di Pippo. _Fifty years_ ago, the only contestants in the Space Race were the nations of Earth. But as we all now know: _We. Are._ _ **Not**_ _. Alone!_ Other beings in the universe have had a Space Race of their own, and I don't have to tell the honored members of UNOOSA that, _clearly_ , they are much further ahead than us! When aliens came upon Earth's doorstep, armed with technology only a select few of us can hope to equal, the solution of the World Security Council was to launch a _nuke_ upon inhabited soil! The main goal of the Outer Space Treaty was to _prevent_ the use of nuclear weaponry in space, what use is that treaty now that there are people in power that will not hesitate to launch such weaponry within our own biosphere?! I say a change is needed! Thanks to the efforts of Titan Solutions, the United States Military, and the hero group known as the Avengers, the very technology that threatened all life on Earth, can now be used to instead launch humanity to the stars! A Planetary Defense Force, standing like an aegis above this beautiful planet we call home, ready to beat back the alien scum of the galaxy with their very own weapons! With the help of the UNOOSA, we can make the safety of our planet against space-related threats, _a reality_!" I roar, and cheers and applause greet me in waves as I slowly let my gaze roam across the assembly hall inside of the United Nations Office at Vienna.

Representatives of around 130 countries are standing in their seats, applauding my proposal, and I give polite little bows of my head to the key players in the room, those with the connections and the influence to push through my ideas (they're each highlighted in my vision through the contact lens I'm wearing, through which Phineas is both watching and aiding me).

"Thank you, Mister McCole, for that inspiring speech. Please return to your seat again, if you will? At this point, I feel that this Assembly has been informed enough to the point that we can now hold a vote on whether a Planetary Defense Force may or may not be created. If this assembly agrees that a PDF is outside the limits of the law, then there shall be a vote on whether or not the laws should be altered in order to allow such a Force. If this assembly agrees that a PDF is _within_ the limits of the law, then we shall move on to the particulars of such a Force, such as jurisdiction, logistics, and development." Simonetta di Pippo, the Director of the United Nations Office for Outer Space Affairs says calmly, her voice cutting through the general noise of the completely filled assembly hall.

This was one of the multiple reasons why I had allowed the Invasion to go on for as long as it did, and why I made sure to publicize the footage of the Chitauri army on the other side of the portal: I needed an army. As a base, Othrys was damn near perfect: defensible, durable and filled to the brim with weaponry, not to mention the superpowered people in my employ.

With the forces at my disposal, I was fairly sure that, outside of Wakanda, I could conquer just about every nation in the world fairly easily.

It wasn't enough.

Thanos was considered to be one of, if not _the_ , most powerful being in the universe. But he wouldn't have been able to cut a swathe of death and destruction throughout his corner of the universe if he went at it alone, or even with the Black Order at his side.

No ordinary individual could stand against him (though maybe other top-tier beings could, like Ego, or a fully powered Surtur), but an army (especially when comprised of races like Kree and the Sovereign) could halt him in his tracks, keep him confined to a single planet or station.

But he had the Outriders, the Chitauri, and the Sakaarians (maybe a payment from the Grandmaster to have Thanos leave his little pocket of the universe undisturbed?) under his control, while using several powerful individuals as proxies in his shadow wars. That sheer military might was what elevated him from a simple (if powerful) madman to a dreaded warlord.

If I wanted to stand a chance against the Mad Titan, then I needed a counter to his vast armies as well, and I couldn't rely on the purple fucker to land in Wakanda again in order to engage in an infantry-only battle against the Wakandans.

No, I needed an army of my own, a big enough thorn in the Titan's side that I could move relatively freely, pursuing my own agenda.

The Planetary Defense Force would be that army.

Not overtly, of course, but _someone_ had to reverse engineer the alien tech, build the ships and the station, organize the forces...

On top of that, I didn't even _need_ to directly control the PDF: when someone from outer space comes knocking, chances are both me and Earth are gonna want them dead and stripped anyways, so really, I just needed to point it in the right direction and allow it to cause trouble for whoever opposes me in the future.

As I sit, I easily hide my smile as the Council almost unanimously agrees to the creation of a PDF (it seems China and their allies are feeling more for creating their own space force under their own supervision, rather than sharing anything with the other countries), and people start furiously debating the supervision, composition and jurisdiction of such a force. And we haven't even gotten to logistics and armament yet! This might take a while, but I got time.

No matter the outcome, it would be in my favor anyways.

It takes pretty much the entirety of the rest of the day, but the general outlines are finally starting to take shape (realistically, it could've taken _years_ until all the bureaucratic bullshit was out of the way, but the mountainous motherships of the Chitauri that were still haunting everybody's thoughts had lit a fire under their collective asses). A research team will be formed out of all the countries that had something to bring to the table (Wakanda, of course, took the lead in this). Together, they will go through the cache of the Chitauri tech, and try to create space-worthy technology for Earth's use. Once it is created, vetted and approved, it will be sent into Earth's orbit using a combination of Stark-Nasa tech and Cross Technologies. Anything that will be sent up will not be allowed to possess any targeting systems aimed at Earth.

Weaponry for the platforms will be provided by Titan Solutions, whose scientists will play a major role in making the alien technology understandable for the international research team, since it is commonly accepted that my Think Tank is the only one with the smarts to actually make any sense of the Chitauri materials (of course, the people I will put on that project will secretly forward both their own findings to me, as well as what the other countries will end up doing with it, but the assembly doesn't need to know that).

The crew will be comprised of volunteers. Volunteers can only come from countries that have both signed the (now altered and improved) Outer Space Treaty, and have contributed to the unified reverse engineering team. Volunteers can come from any branch in the military, but _have_ to have a service record of twenty years at least, and which is absolutely impeccable to boot.

Briefly some countries try to push back, saying that due to that requirement only some of their older soldiers can enlist, which will negatively affect their combat prowess, but at that point I rise up again.

It is a testament to the fame from the One Day War I'm still riding high on, when the entire assembly immediately falls quiet without prompting from me. Despite the fact that I had only been invited as a guest speaker (and as such, really shouldn't be talking right now, much less simply hold the proceedings in such a way), Madam di Poppo motions for me to speak, getting a polite smile from me.

This was the reason why I had stepped to the UNOOSA specifically in order to campaign for the PDF: every single branch in the world government wanted to get involved with the alien technology which would revolutionize Earth's tech-level by decades _at least_ (not to mention the sheer wealth of resources that awaited the first nation that could make space-faring viable, even if the Outer Space Treaty of 1967 prohibited any nation of Earth from claiming any celestial bodies for themselves).

Some of those branches were pretty powerful, but UNOOSA had always been something of a fringe-branch of the United Nations. They played their part during the Cold War, campaigning against both sides from using the Final Frontier as the next stage for modern (read, _nuclear_ ) warfare, and to be fair in that regard they had been pretty successful (though _technically_ , the Rods of God-delivery system was still legal). However, when mankind turned away from the stars and started to cut funding to space exploration, the UNOOSA naturally shrunk as well.

Now though?

Never before had outer space played such an important role in the daily lives of humans. Conspiracy theorists nearly went to war with other conspiracy theorists over whose type of alien lizards had _actually_ infiltrated the government (the scary part about that? The fact that Skrulls exist in this universe meant one of those groups might actually be _right_ ). Governments were running around like headless chickens, especially since a certain someone kept bringing up the WSC and their asinine ideas over the years, causing public outrage and distrust of the governing bodies. Xenophobes and racists made their voices heard loud and clear, and found a willing listener in the frightened population of Earth. Massive amounts of people began to doubt, or even renounce, their faiths, causing religious extremists to go into overdrive, either seeing the Chitauri invasion as a plague sent by God, or demons brought to Earth by the sin of man, or a hundred different ideas which would justify them slaughtering everyone who didn't agree with them.

And in that global unrest, I stepped towards the UNOOSA, this nearly forgotten branch of the UN, and told them to look towards the sky.

UNOOSA read the mood of the global community, understood the political weight I now had and immediately capitalized. They staked claim to everything and anything alien, which included retrieval of alien remains and artefacts, and future contact (either diplomatic or violent), trying to show me as prominently as possible on every single bit of PR they publicized.

Had I not dragged both the WSC and S.H.I.E.L.D. into the spotlight, then the agency and their Damage Control would've simply gone over everybody's head and made sure to snatch up all the alien goodies and hide them away from the world.

But now everybody and their mother knew about their existence, and looked at them with suspicion (due to Fury's and Carter's quick thinking, S.H.I.E.L.D. got off relatively fine, even if they had to give up a lot of their former autonomy, anonimity and liberties), so the UNOOSA's tactic worked. The UNOOSA was catapulted to the foreground of politics as people _finally_ felt that there was a Government branch that knew how to deal with these new and unfamiliar fears that they were suddenly experiencing as of this week (the fact that the one man they _knew_ could beat back this alien threat was throwing his full support behind this government branch certainly helped matters).

So when I spoke, UNOOSA was smart enough to shut the fuck up and listen to what I had to say.

They weren't exactly mine, but in practice it hardly mattered.

"People, people, _please_! I understand your fear, I do! You have all read the preliminary reports on the alien's biology, you have all seen the footage of my forces and the Avengers in combat against the Chitauri threat! We all know that our soldiers would need to be in peak physicality, should CQC ever become necessary, I agree whole-heartedly. _But_ , should they not be at peak _morality_ as well? The volunteers of the PDF shall stand above their peers on Earth, _literally_. We cannot entrust such power to those who would wield it unjustly! And hence, the dilemma. The only soldiers that can be trusted in a position of power are those types of soldiers that would not be fit enough for that very position. But I have the solution! These soldiers would need to be above the human norm, to be beyond our current limits, especially in a region as uninhabitable and tough as space. So I'm willing to _create_ these soldiers for you! I am willing to enhance each and every approved applicant, to the level of a _supersoldier_!"

As the Assembly dissolves into chaos, arguments and shouting, I sit down again, rubbing my chin in order to hide my grin.

Did I just jumpstart the creation of the Space Marine?

Why yes.

Yes I did.

* * *

Have you ever tried to read up on Space Law? I have. It's a hot mess, filled with debates about definitions and hypothetical situations, trying to exert influence about happenings that are literally beyond the reach of Earth.

Yeah, not exactly the most fun reading material in the world.

Thankfully, I employ a formerly Brain Boosted Tinkerer who has turned into an AI and a lawyer who I have seen snap a ninja's neck (not entirely sure how that translates to better lawyering skills, but it was extremely awesome so there), so after the meeting at Vienna has _finally_ come to a close I'm more than happy to portal to Jeri's office, dump a two feet tall stack of documents on her desk, give her a jaunty wave, and then quickly portal towards Othrys before she can tackle me through a wall (Phineas has watched the meeting in real-time and has already downloaded all the relevant files as he immediately goes to work).

With Titan Solutions being so intertwined with the creation process of the PDF at multiple stages, Hogarth should be able to find ways to absolutely shower me in absurd amounts of money, especially if Phineas is helping her out, condensing all the information for her and keeping his eye on the competition (which at this point mostly consists of Stark and Killmonger, though Roxxon and Rand are fighting for a part in the millions of different things that will be required for the creation process and the upkeep of the PDF).

Letting the mystical glow of the portal snap shut behind me (cutting off Hogarth's angered "Michael!") I walk down the hall on one of the multiple research floors of Othrys (which are all located underground, with more being dug and furbished as needed). I have two projects to check up on, before I can continue with my own research.

Approaching one of the blastdoors sunken into the wall of the hall, I wave my hand across the strip on the doorframe, which briefly lights up with a soft green glow before the heavy doors smoothly open.

Long experience at Othrys has conditioned me (and my employees as well) to immediately twist to the side whenever a door on the research levels is opened, but when I'm not greeted with a blast of fire, eldritch energies or lasers, I deem it safe enough to step inside the lab.

There are two occupants, which probably means that the third one is taking one of her many breaks in the relaxation area of the residential level (it has an obscenely large and sinfully comfortable hot-tub, which is somewhat of a guilty pleasure for many of my employees). The man is halfway inside a massive machine which seems to be the love-child of something Stark would build if he was completely shit-faced drunk, and metalwork that even Sakaar would think of as ugly. Off to the side, writing furiously in a notebook as brown eyes kept flicking up at a glowing cube, sits a woman, eyebrows pinched and her tongue occasionally slipping out.

"Hello Dr. Selvig, Dr. Foster. How are things coming along?"

After the battle had come to a close, an exhausted and mentally shell-shocked Selvig had briefly been taken in by the Avengers before he made his way back to his own home again, as the heroes were simply far too busy with cleaning up the ruined city and tending to the many injured to bother caring for a the man who was seemingly fine.

Selvig had thought so as well… until he woke up one day in his living room in only his underwear, with no memory of how he had gotten there or why his walls were completely covered with scribbled advanced formulae and nonsensical drawings.

So when I reached out to him, offering him the solution to the alien clutter that was slowly starting to overwhelm his brain, he jumped at the opportunity like a drowning man throwing himself to a life-vest.

The Brain Booster had an… _odd_ effect on him, compared to the rest of us. Where with us, we simply _understood_ more, the world unfolding around us as we comprehended it in ways we could never have imagined before the enhancement, Selvig instead seemed to suddenly _know_ more.

It was as if Loki had driven a spike of knowledge inside Selvig's brain, geared towards creating the portal using the Tesseract as a power source. Of course, there was quite a disconnect between that level of knowledge and what Selvig had already possessed, but those gaps in his knowledge had been shored up by Loki keeping him on track and pushing him along. Now that Loki wasn't controlling his mind anymore, however, that tightly packed bunch of information was unfolding (all that general knowledge which Selvig _should_ have known before he attempted anything even remotely close to what he had achieved with the Tesseract), which brought it into conflict with the natural limitations of Selvig's brain.

So it had started to push other things to side, spreading like a cancer, or an ink-blot in water, which is why Selvig started acting increasingly erratic, until eventually he would end up running around Stonehenge completely buck-naked in a year or so (he had gone completely ashen faced when I told him so in the most serious voice I could manage).

With the Brain Booster there was suddenly a lot more… _room_ , for lack of a better word, and all of that alien knowledge now finally had a way to fit inside Selvig's enhanced mind, a rush of memories and information that weren't his own rushing in like a tidal wave, if the scientist's pained screams were anything to go by.

Thankfully, the pain subsided after a few hours, after which came the _really_ intriguing part: it seemed that Selvig's brain started filling in the gaps between his alien-gained knowledge and his own level of expertise (he compared it to the way the brain automatically fills in and corrects parts of our vision, though he admitted it was a poor analogy to the miracle that was happening inside his head), meaning that instead of just _knowing_ how to build stuff that he hadn't even known existed last year, he now started _understanding_ the principles behind the stuff he had built for Loki.

The sheer versatility it granted him… I would probably put him on either equal or even greater footing than Radcliffe when it came to mechanics and electronics (Sterns was still in a league of his own though. A few days ago I was walking through the hanger, and I swear to God that Oliver was _looking_ at me somehow), despite the fact that Radcliffe had been Brain Boosted for almost half a year now.

Selvig had been more than thankful to me after I had prevented him from going insane, and allowing him to understand all that miraculous knowledge inside his own mind, that he was more than willing to immediately start working on the Tesseract for me (he was the expert on it, after all, and all my other scientists were currently occupied), no questions asked.

He was _so_ thankful, in fact, that he hadn't even objected to me getting into contact with Jane Foster, even offering to call her himself. I had half-feared that I would be too late in contacting her, since Thor was still on Earth this time around. If she had come to New York in order to seek contact with him, she might have already moved into Stark Tower, especially since I remembered that, due to Darcy hacking the computers at the observatory in Tormsø, Jane would know by now that Thor had participated in the Battle for New York.

So I had to sweeten the deal.

Unfortunately, the deal would have to be so sweet that I couldn't simply offer it to her over the telephone (no matter how secure Sterns and Phineas could make it), so I simply teleported over to Norway, arriving at the observatory in person (due to me harnessing and freezing a Leviathan, not to mention the fact that a massive hole in the sky had opened to let said alien and its brethren through in the first place, a _lot_ of people believed in magic these days, so I didn't really feel the need to hide my teleporting anymore).

After calming down a startled Foster (and ignoring the googly-eyes that Darcy was sending me), I sat down with the scientist and her intern as we started talking business together. Foster and Darcy had already figured out that they had been stashed there by S.H.I.E.L.D. so that Thor wouldn't tear down Western Civilization as we knew it should Foster have been caught in the cross-fire of the Invasion.

However, with the actions of the WSC coming to light, neither woman felt entirely comfortable dancing to the spy agency's tunes (though they hadn't exactly been comfortable with it in the first place), though Foster admitted that she'd be somewhat disappointed to leave the high-tech observatory behind.

Until I told her that I would built her an observatory at Othrys made completely to her _exact_ specifications, sparing neither cost nor efforts, or even launch my own telescope into Earth's orbit if she wanted me to.

As I told the two star-struck scientists with a gleaming smile: "I'll spare no expense."

Still, while Foster was tempted at my offer, all it took was seeing her eyes flick back towards the screen showing Thor lighting up the sky with Mjolnir during the One Day War to know that she still wasn't completely convinced.

Which was where the second part of my deal came in.

"Dr. Foster. How would you like to visit Asgard?"

"W-what? What do you mean, not even Thor can return-"

"So imagine how grateful he would be if _you_ were the one to return him to his home and family."

At the flabbergasted question of how I could _possibly_ help her return the Norse God home when he himself couldn't do so, I had merely smiled and offered her the Brain Booster, as well as the opportunity to work on creating a stable Einstein-Rosenberg, essentially building our own Bifrost.

"Selvig will be _so_ happy to see you again. If it wasn't for me, then the shit that Loki did to him would've driven him insane, you know? I really think that seeing the two of you would do him a lot of good."

And _that_ had nailed the final nail into the coffin, and after taking about twenty minutes to pack their things (Foster was done in five, but Darcy had misplaced her hairdryer and had _somehow_ roped both me and Foster into helping her find the damned thing) and a step through a glowing tear in space and time, Doctor Jane Foster stood upon the doorstep of Othrys.

Turning around at my greeting, Selvig gives a happy wave, his other hand still firmly lodged in the guts of… _whatever_ it was that he was currently building.

"Oh hi there Michael! Everything is going fine, _better_ than fine, in fact! Give me the rest of today, and tomorrow I'll have this puppy up and running! It'll be capable of containing and channeling the power of the Tesseract without any issue! After that, I should be able to get started on making it into a portable version, and after _that_ we can really get started on the space-related shenanigans! Jane can fill you in on that part though." And with another huge smile, Selvig dives back into his Tesseract-powered battery- _thing_.

Turning towards Foster with a raised eyebrow, I see how the astrophysicist merely rolls her eyes, though a fond smile crosses her face.

"He's been like that ever since you gave him his own lab and all the tech he could ever ask for. He hasn't stopped grinning ever since I saw him, and I've even had to drag him away from his project and damn near _force-feed_ him because he forgot to eat!"

After looking at my inquisitive face for a few moments, Jane's expression falls as a blush comes to her cheeks.

" _Fine_. _Darcy_ had to feed the both of us. But it was just this one- alright fine, it was _three_ times, but I was about to go eat a sandwich anyways, I promise!" Jane says in a heated tone, her blush only increasing at my deep laugh as I walk over towards her.

"It's fine Doctor. I figure just about every scientist here at Othrys has been where the two of you are now. You'll learn to deal with the new impulses in time, if only because eventually Phineas will send a drone to bug you until you eat."

"He does that?!"

"Oh, _sure_. He'll start with a small drone, which will just follow you with this _incredibly_ annoying humming sound, kinda like a gigantic mosquito. If that doesn't work, he starts poking you with it, and after that, he'll switch it up to small shocks instead. If _that_ doesn't work, he'll bring out a drone carrying a flame-thrower." I say, and looking at Jane's horrified expression, I only manage to keep a straight face for two whole seconds before I burst out into laughter.

"I'm kidding Doctor Foster, I'm _kidding_!"

Well, kinda. Phineas only _threatened_ to bring out the flamethrower after shocking Burstein and Hansen hadn't worked, but since both scientists were fireproof (Burstein had of course taken the Amber Armor, whereas Hansen had immediately enhanced herself with the perfected Extremis formula she had been slaving over for more than a decade) I wasn't entirely sure just how useful that would've turned out to be.

"Darcy will have her hands full in order to keep the two of you properly fed and watered, but rest assured Jane, nobody here would try to keep you or Erik from their research. This is _Othrys_! There are no limits to the SCIENCE! we perform here!" I say with a wild grin as I throw my arms wide, causing Jane to (thankfully) chuckle at my antics.

It's imperative that the woman enjoys working here: she's my get-out-of-jail-without-a-hammer-jammed-up-my-ass card. As long as she's here, working for me, then I'm (relatively) safe from Thor. I'm not entirely sure how the God of Thunder views me right now (considering that Loki immediately thought I was from Muspelheim, I don't exactly have my hopes up), but kicking his brother's ass certainly wouldn't do me any favors in his eyes.

I'm _fairly_ certain that Heimdall is incapable of seeing the Infinity Stones (if he _could_ see the Space Stone, then why not portal Thor directly on top of it, instead of sending Thor to Loki's location in order to beat the whereabouts of the Tesseract out of the Jotun?), but there was no way for me to verify my theory.

Even if turned out that he couldn't, then he still could've spotted the Hysminai taking the Tesseract (he probably wouldn't really care for the Scepter, which is another point in favor of the theory that he can't see Infinity Stones, or Asgard would've place a bigger priority of retrieving the Scepter as well) and tracked them back towards Othrys.

And even if Thor didn't get any leads from Asgard as to whose door he needed to bust down in order to return home and restore peace to the Nine Realms, then there still was Tony Stark, who most certainly was having his own suspicions, even if he was smart enough to realize how fragile global relations had become overnight now that alien invasions no longer merely belonged in sci-fi movies.

The world would recover, even grow more unified, from the Chitauri attack, under my guidance, but for now it was imperative the heroes of Earth presented a united front to the global community. That didn't mean that he would simply forget about it, and in all likelihood he would eventually point Thor in my direction, if only because I was probably seen as the authority on anything supernatural at this point (ordinarily it would've been S.H.I.E.L.D. instead, but since nobody quite trusted them anymore these days they didn't count).

So yeah, when the Norse God of Thunder came knocking on my door, it would be nice to have his girlfriend stand at my side and vouch for me.

Thankfully, the combination of working with Selvig in the most high-tech environment she had ever seen, with all the money and equipment she could ever ask for, her mind enhanced in ways she hadn't known were even possible and with the Tesseract in front of her seemed sufficient to have the brilliant scientist firmly on my side.

That being said though…

"Oh! Before I forget, can you please tell Chiron that I will be going into the city tonight? I have another… you know… _date_." Jane says, tugging at her sleeves as her face glows so brightly, if I didn't know that she doesn't have Extremis, I'd think she was ready to spit fire at any moment now.

Yeah, despite gladly working and living at Othrys, Jane had still managed to connect with Thor. The God had been ridiculously busy assisting with the clean-up, but Jane had tracked him down nevertheless, and the two had embraced and kissed right there on the streets as if they were two long-lost lovers.

While the God was clearly disappointed when Jane told him that she wouldn't be moving into Stark Tower as well, the scientist had immediately cheered him up when she offered to go on a date with him. Of course, Thor, being _Thor_ , had a quite… _peculiar_ idea as to what exactly counted as a 'date'.

As a stricken Jane told me with wide eyes that first day after she had returned from tracking down Thor, the warrior God's idea of courting a lady was taking her to an active warzone and holding a competition over who got the most kills (incidentally, this custom is why most Asgardian men are somewhat weary of approaching Lady Sif, since the _last_ guy who did so a few hundred years ago had come back to Asgard damn near in tears when she got more than twice his amount of kills without even breaking a sweat).

After calming down the scientist somewhat (and promising that _if_ she went to an active warzone with Thor, I'd have Melvin cover her from head to toe in the finest Amber Armor) I sent her off to a surprised Elliot, telling him that he should give the woman a crash course on Asgardian courtship and customs.

Giving a nod at Jane's earlier question, I mock-glare at her.

"Do you _have_ to humor the kid like that? He just drives the boats for God's sakes! Just because me and Phineas have Greek-based codenames doesn't mean _everyone_ who works for Othrys absolutely needs one as well."

"Well, he thinks it's cool, and I just don't have the heart to tell a bright kid like him that he has gotten his myths mixed up, you know, since Othrys was never in the Underworld." Jane says with a small smile, before she looks over at the Tesseract again.

It takes me a few moments to realize that she's completely forgotten I'm there, so I snap my fingers in front of her face (by adding a small amount of chi, the snap sounds more like a loud gunshot instead), nearly making Jane fall form her chair in shock.

"What?! What is it?!"

"Selvig told me that you could explain more about where you are at regarding the space-bending qualities of the Tesseract. You know, before we started talking about your boyfriend?"

"H-He's _not_ -"

My grin cuts off her sputtered response, so instead she merely gives up and settles for glaring at me as she opens her notebook with a snap.

"Well, if you _must_ know, I'm starting to understand the basic principles of how it interacts with local space-time. Mind you, I have absolutely _no idea_ how it does so in the first place, but I've been able to log it's energy signatures corresponding to various differences in the fields surrounding the Tesseract, ranging from mere radiation, like gamma, and even gravitational! It's _amazing_! I'm so close to triggering targeted changes, I just _know_ it!" Jane says with an exited grin, as her hair whips around her head as she jumps up from her chair and start pacing.

"Don't worry Michael. Once Erik has set up his battery, there will be _far_ larger quantities of energy that we can safely work with and study. Once we reach that stage, with the studies I have done so far, it shouldn't take us to long to start experimenting on how to create a stable Einstein-Rosenbridge in a controlled environment!" Jane says with an exited grin as she turns to look at me, so I just laugh again as I hold up my hands in a placating gesture.

"Very well then, I'll leave you Doctors to it. Please make sure to eat and rest enough or I'll have Phineas do something _far_ worse than merely bringing out the flamethrowing drone." I say with a grin, which only grows sharper as Jane stops in place, looking at me with wide eyes.

"What… what will you do?"

"I'll tell him to snitch to Darcy instead."

There's a dull 'thump!' from my right, even as Jane's eyes widen in horror, and turning to look over towards the monstrosity that Erik has been building, I can't quite contain my amusement when I see him rubbing the newly-formed bump on his head with a wince as he turns towards me, his face white as a sheet.

"You wouldn't _dare_ …" he whispers, prompting a loud laugh from me as I walk out of their spacious lab.

"Remember Doctors! Take care! _Literally_!"

And with those words, I'm back in the Hall again, and I immediately make a right, my long strides quickly taking me to my location. As enjoyable as it had been to talk to the two scientists, there was a _lot_ that I wanted to get done, and I wanted to get it done _fast_.

I actually had a bit of time before the next major development kicked off due to snowballing away quite a few films by now (Age of Ultron, Iron Man 3, Black Panther to name just a few), meaning that the next big crisis would be the Convergence, and the attack of the Dark Elves. After that, I had another year until Ego's Expansion, and since his Seed was currently inside my house, I'd much prefer it if it didn't suddenly turned into a hundred-feet tall glowing piece of chewed up gum that has been stuck underneath a student's desk for years.

However, my main concern wasn't with which movies would and wouldn't happen. No, it was far more immediate than that.

How long until my actions cause Thanos to get up from his chair early?

In canon, Thanos wouldn't come into action personally for another six years from now, after which he would strike hard and fast at whoever possessed the Stones, collecting them all in the span of a mere two days.

Should he stay on his chair, then great! I'm pretty sure that even without cracking the two Stones that I have now, I'm capable of taking each of his generals in personal combat (not that I'm counting on them actually going at me one by one, but it's the thought that counts), meaning that there's very little in the universe that would pose a genuine threat to me.

If he gets up, say, somewhere within _this_ year… I (and half of the universe) would be _fucked_.

Briefly, my steps come to a halt when I contemplate something _truly_ daring.

What if I went after Thanos _now_?

Not _now_ now, of course, but after I have completed my two major projects, and integrated the two Infinity Stones into my arsenal? I'm pretty sure that with the right tools, some planning, and the Space Stone, I could create Relativistic Kill Vehicles (or at the very least the Rods of God), which is virtually no defending against, since it destroys you and everything in a hundred mile radius around you down to the sub-atomic level before you even know it's headed your way.

Thanos _probably_ doesn't know that I exist, _yet_ , whereas _I_ am both fully aware of the danger that he represents as well as his general location in the universe. Honestly, the best thing that I could do was take the initiative, and make my first attack either a killshot, or a crippling move _before_ Thanos could figure out that there was someone out there in the universe who was jeopardizing his great Plan and act prematurely.

Should I…?

Could I…?

The risks…

The rewards…

Troubled, my steps slowly continue again as I keep mulling over this daring plan over and over again, weighing seemingly endless lists of pros and cons against each other. Eventually, I arrive at the wing of the research level that I had been heading towards, and I decide to put the whole plan out of my mind, for now at least.

Even _if_ I decided to go for that plan, I would need full mastery of the Space Stone, which I don't have yet.

Better to focus on the here and now, and keep that plan in the back of my mind for whenever the opportunity might present itself.

Again waving my hand in front of the strip in the doorframe, I'm still too deep in thought to perform the customary 'twist to the side' movement that has become almost mandatory these days, and a blinding ray of white-bluish light _slams_ into my chest, completely ruining my nice shirt and jacket, causing thin trails of smoke to drift from my unbreakable skin.

Giving a sigh at the fist-size hole in my fancy clothes, I look inside the bio-technological wing of Othrys, pinning the two scientists with a flat stare.

Hansen at least has the decency to slightly wince when she meets my stare, but Burstein is _far_ too enthusiastic to even notice, nearly bouncing over towards me as he grabs one of my sleeves and starts dragging me to the raised table he and Hansen had been sitting at.

"Oh Michael, you are just in time! I have _got_ to show you this, come on!"

I steadfastly ignore the meters long, fleshy roots and alien flower that take up an entire corner of the lab, as well as the cowering and hissing plants that have all pushed themselves as far as possible in the opposite corner.

Neither scientist even seems to notice, so I pointedly ignore it as well.

Should the plants end up trying to run away, I'll just have Phineas drown this entire floor in weed killer or something.

Looking at the fleshy, glowing growth that's sitting on a glass plate in the middle of the table as Burstein points towards it with pride, I stare at it for several moments, before I shrug and give up.

"Alright, I'll bite. What the hell am I looking at?"

"I have… _no idea_!" Burstein says with an enormous grin, though it falters somewhat when I turn to look at him with an unimpressed stare.

"You've been at this for _two months_ … and you _still_ don't know what the hell it is?" I ask in a low tone of voice, and Burstein is quick to throw his hands up in a placating gesture, swallowing somewhat nervously.

"Ah, perhaps I misspoke? You see, what I was trying to say-"

"We know what it _does_. We even have some _very_ vague ideas on how it does it. But considering that every single botanist on Earth will tell you that what it does, and how it does it, is blatantly impossible, yeah. We have absolutely no clue what the hell it actually _is_." Hansen speaks up instead, looking at me with irritation clear in her eyes, probably due to the fact that she has only slept about three hours on average each day for the past week, if Phineas is to be believed (and considering he has eyes and ears nearly everywhere inside the base, I intend to believe him alright).

"Alright then. Let's start at the beginning. What does it _do_?"

Burstein is the one who answers my question.

"It deals with energy. Storing it, producing it, channeling it, expelling it, it is capable of all four. Now, this is remarkable in and of itself, but here's the _really_ interesting thing. If we _add_ energy to it, _any_ type of energy at all, light, heat, electromagnetic it doesn't even matter. It converts that energy either into pure energy-" at this, Burstein briefly winces as he only now notices the smoking hole in my shirt "- or converts it into _matter_."

Hansen immediately picks up where Burstein leaves off.

"From what we can tell, it almost acts like the biological equivalent of nanobots. It's a fully organic energy absorber and refinery, _and_ energy-to-matter converter in one. It's like looking at a high-tech factory, made out of biomatter. This… _whatever_ it is? Conventional science and biology say it shouldn't even be able to exist in the first place."

Placing both my fists on the table as I stare intently at the piece of Ego's seed that Burstein and Hansen had been working on, I can't quite contain a feeling of greed overcoming me, though I thankfully manage to keep the emotion from showing on my face.

Celestials were indisputably the most powerful race shown in the MCU. Some of the threats that stand on equal footing with them in the comic books _might_ exist in this particular universe as well, but I rather doubt it.

Even if they _do_ turn out to exist, they, like the Celestials, don't seem to interfere in the affairs of the galaxy at large all that much, and I certainly don't intend to scour the cosmos in order to track them down.

Still though, in front of me lies Celestial-flesh, and my scientist are seemingly getting closer in understanding (and thus dismantling) the awesome power locked inside.

"So it's like a battery and a matter generator in one. What more can you tell me?" I ask, and Burstein picks up again.

"Well, we have figured _some_ uses for it at least. Like I said, it is capable of storing virtually any kind of energy inside its cells. We didn't want to risk damaging the test subject, so we never went overboard in trying to see just how much energy it could convert and then store, but before it discharged when you opened the door, _this_ little piece was capable of holding the energy of a _dozen_ car batteries!"

"Once we figure out how to clone and grow the biomatter, we should be able to create a structure that can function as an enormous battery and generator in one. Put it on top of a house and just by using solar radiation, it would be able to power it for about a month, depending on size. _Or_ , throw it inside a nuclear plant. It will scrub the entire place of harmful radiation, storing it as pure, _clean_ energy instead, which can be extracted and used as a powersource." Hansen speaks up, and despite her exhaustion, there's a gleam of excitement in her eyes as she looks over the fleshy root of Ego's Seed.

"Michael. Harnessing the power of this plant… the possibilities are _endless_! Hell, combined with what we have here, we could send a large structure of this to the sun and create a _Dyson Sphere_!" Burstein speaks up with a massive grin, before Hansen takes over again.

"And that's just the _energy_ side of things, the most basic ability that this organism has. But the way it interacts with _matter_! Hey Phineas? Could you bring up video-log A/0034, April 23rd?" Hansen spoke up, looking at the ceiling.

There's a short blink in the LED-strips that cover the ceiling in a crisscross pattern, before a hologram is projected in front of me. It's a 3D-video, showing both Hansen and Burstein as they are standing behind a highly durable safety screen (Burstein's invention), looking at the far end of the room.

A piece of the rootsystem, about as long as my arm, is lying on the floor, while a brightly glowing… _something_ is suspended above it by a slim robotic arm.

"What the hell am I looking at?"

"This is when we found out that it interacts with matter as well! You see, we started to wonder what would happen if we took that refined, _pure_ energy and had it absorb _that_. Watch!" Burstein answers with excitement lining his voice.

In the 3D-projection, I see Hansen swipe her hand across the smooth glass that functions as a control panel for all the equipment in the room, and the robotic arm lowers the glowing piece of flesh (the scientists probably just took a piece of Ego's roots and pumped that full with energy beforehand) onto the root lying below.

The two came into contact with one another and-

"Whoah."

-the root that had been lying on the floor _sucked_ in the light coming from the flesh that had been hanging above it, and immediately ballooned in a flash of light and motion.

Where just a second ago it had been only the size of my arm, it was now bigger than Susan, covering the far wall of the lab as Burstein and Hansen slowly picked themselves up from where they had thrown themselves to the ground.

Hansen paused the footage with an enormous grin as she turned towards me.

"It made _more_ of itself Michael! The whole energy thing, as revolutionary as it is, that's only the means to an end for this thing! Its _true_ purpose is expansion! All the energy we kept feeding it was turned into that _pure_ form of energy, but the reason it does that is because it _needs_ that particular type of energy in order to create more of itself! The conversion rate of mundane energy to the type of energy it needs to create matter out of it is too low to be sufficient however, but as you can see, we found a way around that."

"Please tell me you aren't planning on pumping that plant full of pure energy, right?"

"What? No! No, of course not, are you insane?! If it grows large enough, then it would absorb enough energy that the conversion rate doesn't matter anymore, it would _still_ be able to grow more of itself! It could go critical, Michael, to the point it would simply cover our entire planet!" Burstein hurriedly speaks up.

' _I already knew that, but it's comforting to know that the two of you are now aware of that little issue as well.'_ I think to myself, before I turn to look Burstein straight in the eye.

 _This_ was the reason why I wanted Ego's Seed so badly.

"Can it be spliced with another organism?" I ask lowly.

Hansen blinks incredulously at me, clearly wondering why the hell I'm asking them that question when they have just revealed to me that there's an organism in my basement that defies all conventional biological knowledge, but Burstein has known me for longer.

He knows where I'm going with this.

"Michael… look, you didn't listen to me when I told you that trying to give yourself Jessica's powers was dangerous. You did it anyways, and it all worked out, so I'm more than happy to leave that argument behind us. But I'm telling you now Michael, and I hope to _God_ that you're listening: this isn't dangerous."

I blink a couple of times at Burstein's words, which are at odds with the extremely serious and grave look he's sending me.

"Wait, what? It _isn't_ dangerous?"

"No. It's _lethal_. Immediately, _irrefutably_ lethal. There are only two possible scenarios if you try to integrate this creature into yourself Michael. _One_ : you integrate it successfully, fully making it a part of you. Then either you'll be absorbing enough energy to start expanding until you resemble a fleshy blob the size of a small country, _or_ you'll _not_ be absorbing enough energy, meaning that you'll simply end up inert, like going into hibernation. Or _two_ : the integration does not go successfully. Instead, it's a foreign body inside of you, which starts to feast on your very energy, everything from Extremis-heat, Jessica's powerfield, Chi, hell, even your regular bio-electricity. The _best_ case scenario is that it starts draining you dry until you become a shallow husk, a shambling, living corpse. The _worst_ case scenario is that you produce enough energy for it to start expanding inside of you, consuming your body like a parasite."

For a moment, the lab is completely quiet as I numbly stare at Burstein's heated gaze as I process the bombshell he has just dropped on me.

"I… see. Thank you, Burstein, for that… _graphic_ warning." I slowly say, but the scientist isn't done yet.

"I'm warning you here Michael. _Don't_ try to enhance yourself with this thing. Your DNA has already been altered enough times that by all rights, you should just be a walking pile of cancerous growths at this point. Please, _please_ , don't tempt fate by absorbing something like _this_ into yourself as well. I told you that the possibilities with it are endless: that means that the bad case scenarios are endless as well."

Looking from Burstein to the fleshy root on the table in front of me, I can't help but feel somewhat bitter. Sure, if what Hansen and Burstein had told me was correct, then this could prove a bigger revolution for the energy industry than even the arc reactors had been (I keep thinking back to Hansen's comment about throwing it inside a nuclear reactor), and it wasn't as if I had made some big sacrifice or anything to get my hands on the Seed.

Still, to be denied more power… it stung.

Turning away from the table and the two concerned looking scientists, I start making my way out of their lab, throwing orders over my shoulder as I go.

"Thank you for the demonstrations, Doctors. Please forward your current findings to Jeri Hogarth, she'll find the commercial angle for your research. In the meantime, please proceed as you have, these were some promising results, I look forwards to seeing more."

And before either one of them can react, the doors to their lab slams shut behind me, leaving me alone in the hallway.

Well, this _is_ Othrys, meaning that I'm hardly ever _truly_ alone.

"You doing okay there Michael?"

Tilting my head upwards in order to look at the ceiling, I give a small smile to Phineas' disembodied head, projected from the LED-strips lining the walls and ceiling.

"A bit of a set-back, sure, but I'll deal with it Phineas. Don't worry about me."

For a moment, I stand there in the hall, trying to figure out my next step. For the past few weeks, by appearing in the news as much as possible, I had cemented both the reputation of myself and that of Othrys, so now I could hand the reigns over to Hogarth to capitalize on it.

Using the reputation that I had built upon, I had managed to push through the creation of a Planetary Defense Force (though things were still very much in their early stages, proceeding with baby steps), meaning that there would be a buffer between humanity and whatever alien asshole decides to show up here, taking a lot off my plate and thus giving me more freedom to do as I want (the fact that this highly advanced force will be in my pocket is certainly a bonus).

With those two projects now out of my hands and in Hogarth's, there were only a few things that needed to be done before I could leave this planet and truly start on crossing that threshold from a merely powerful individual, to God-tier being.

The first thing that was required was actually using the Space Stone. Since Foster and Selvig were working on that front, all I had to do was wait until their research had progressed to the point that they could make portals with it (I already could make portals, but the magical focus required for inter-planetary travel was _extremely_ tricky, and I'd rather not risk it).

Since I had to wait until I could harness one of the Infinity Stones, I wanted to master the other one in my possession as well. The biggest danger of the Mind Stone was that it could start dominating my own mind, but I had several ideas as to how to protect myself against that, especially given the fact that I had two people on house-arrest inside Othrys whose research would prove most valuable.

Once I had mastery of the two Stones, I would leave Earth as soon as possible (I wanted to have as many of the Stones as possible before Thanos started cottoning on to the fact that there even was another player in the game), so before I actually got to that point, I wanted to squeeze as much out of Earth as possible.

Helen Cho had been approached to start working for Othrys, and despite the fact that she was so eager to get started here I hadn't even needed to offer her the Brain Booster (I would once she got here), she was still under a contract that she couldn't break, meaning that she would be stuck in Asia for at least half a year.

I had originally wanted to have Hogarth look into Cho's contract, but the woman was swamped already, between the rebuilding of New York and the creation of the PDF, so I had just decided to leave well enough alone: Helen Cho would end up in my clutches eventually.

The other scientist that I really wanted to have working for me was Franklin Hall. I had thought that I could entice him by publishing some of the preliminary research my teams had done into researching how the Leviathans were capable of flight, but the man was terrified that, if he gave up his spot in studying the miniscule amounts of Gravitonium available to his research center, he'd never get it back, so he declined my offer.

I of course had immediately put Sterns on calibrating the scanner that had led me to Ego's Seed to start searching for Gravitonium instead, sending out the Hysminai to collect as much as they could. Until they returned with the Gravitonium, Hall would remain out of my reach. For now.

Speaking of the Leviathans by the way, my people found out how they flew: they were biotics.

Not literally of course, but some of the principles described in the Mass Effect games were startlingly accurate in how those multi-ton beings remained floating in the air.

An electromagnetic discharge through exotic trace elements started messing around with how mass related to weight, causing things to float. It seemed that this was engineered into the Leviathans though, since the ones we cut open showed to have generators and batteries grafted onto their nervous system, and those exotic particles certainly weren't naturally produced by the creatures.

Finding what appeared to be the alien equivalent of gills, my team came with the theory that originally, the Leviathans were deep-sea dwellers, which would also explain why they didn't have eyes, and it was generally accepted that beings that lived in the oceans were capable of becoming larger than land-based animals due to having their own mass supported by the water.

Based on what we had learned from the alien corpses, it seemed that the Chitauri stumbled on these Leviathans on an alien water-world, and enslaved them and repurposed them as their mounts and bioships (those holes in the side of the Leviathans that deployed Chitauri soldiers were cut into the creature after it reaches maturity, we found out).

However, messing with electromagnetic fields and trace elements had somewhat backfired on the Chitauri though: the Chitauri virus which was found in a multitude of the corpses (and only because I knew to look for it) had managed to use it against them, infecting the Chitauri without the need of pathogens. It instead transferred via electrostatic shock, meaning that, every time they boarded their Leviathans or used their gravity defying technology, more of them got infected.

While in humans the virus would literally end up exploding the brain in an electrostatic explosion, in Chitauri it seemed to be repurposed to work in conjunction with their cybernetics instead, having seemingly no adverse effect on the aliens.

We didn't know what the virus would do to a Chitauri without cybernetics though.

Hell, we didn't even know whether or not there were Chitauri without cybernetics in the first place.

Because we were on the lookout for any space-borne diseases (something I pushed hard to check for before anyone started securing the corpses, citing that if humans from different continents carried diseases that were lethal to other population groups, then imagine what an entirely different alien species from the other end of the galaxy could be transmitting to us), we managed to isolate the corpses and equipment that carried the virus, meaning that this time, there would be no relief workers whose head would end up exploding after a while.

Of course, if the electromagnetic/static fields that were created by an infected could be controlled without the subject dying, then it would be another boost to my powers, but I wasn't entirely comfortable with studying viruses to deeply (again, same reason why I didn't want to mess with Kilgrave's virus, I _really_ don't have the time to deal with a Zombie Apocalypse).

However, until I had enough Gravitonium to have Franklin Hall working for me, most of this research gave some interesting insight into humanity's enemies, but was ultimately not something that was directly useful to me.

So what else was left to me, now that the two scientists I had wanted within my clutches would only arrive in a matter of months at best, and the powers of the Celestials seemed to be out of my reach.

Well, I had already studied two alien races.

How was the third one coming along, I wonder?

Course decided, I open a portal to the Kree City, where Radcliffe is practically _living_ at this point, together with Kitsworth and Skye (though the younger woman has often asked for a portal back to Othrys, having an occasional 'girls-night out' with Jessica, which as of last week now also includes Darcy Lewis). Radcliffe is, as usual, sitting behind a desk, staring intently at an enormous monitor on which displayed rolling texts of data are displayed, coming from the legion of surveillance drones that are mapping the entire city (we have only lost a dozen or so to hidden traps, so things were going pretty well to be honest).

Skye is nowhere to be seen, but Kitsworth is sitting in a great plushy arm-chair as she's leisurely leafing through a notebook on her lap, a steaming mug of thee in her hand as she occasionally looks up at the enormous holographic screen on the other end of the room covering the wall, filled with alien signs.

Turning towards the woman with a soft smile, I clear my throat, making both the scientist and his girlfriend nearly jump from their seats from surprise. Watching as Kitsworth's eyes land on me, I can't quite keep my gaze from shooting towards her bald scalp, a thick scar going from above her forehead all the way down to the nape of her neck.

I hadn't wanted to give a cancer-patient any version of Extremis, which meant that we would have to surgically remove the malignant growths in the woman's brain. Normal medicine hadn't been capable of safely removing said growths because it was too deep inside her brain, but Othrys was pretty far removed from _normal_ medicine at this point.

Using Pym Particles, remote controlled cutting tools of the highest quality and both Sterns and Phineas at the wheel, so to speak, we had first shorn Kitsworth's hair off, then cut open her scalp, and subsequently lifted the top part of her skull off as well. With direct access to the woman's brain, the Pym-shrunk tools went _inside_ of her brain, directed by Phineas who was performing a continuing deep-scan of the organ, giving Sterns a real-time feed of where his machines were. With targeted lasers and cutting tools, the growths were disconnected from the healthy tissue, shrunk down and stored inside the microscopic machines.

After another deep-scan in order to check for any cancer cells that hadn't become tumors yet (thankfully there weren't any), a weak regenerative serum was applied to the slightly damaged structures of Kitsworth's brain, the machines were extracted, the skull put back into one piece and fused together using what could be compared to the biological equivalent of cement, after which the skin was placed back and sealed with bio-gel as well.

Eventually, Agnes' hair would grow back, and there would be not trace left of the woman having ever undergone surgery to be saved from cancer.

If it weren't for the fact that the operation had lasted nearly 24 hours, requiring detailed and continuous attention from the smartest man on the planet, this procedure could save thousands and thousands of lives all over the world.

As it was, all that we could do was sell the cutting tools and the deep-scan equipment to hospitals and the like. It wasn't a perfect solution, but in the hands of the likes of Strange, a lot more lives now had a fighting chance, which gave me the first thing in a while to feel wholly good about.

"Oh, hello Michael. Nice of you to drop by." Agnes says with a bright smile, one which I answer in kind.

"Hello Agnes. Doing a bit of reading, I see."

"Well, it's more frustrated staring at this point, but I _am_ making some headway at least. _Some_." The woman says with a chuckle as she holds up her notebook, which is filled with lines and the same alien scribbles that are projected on the wall behind me.

Seeking for a challenge now that she had agreed to stay with Othrys (and subsequently, Radcliffe as well), Agnes had taken it onto herself to get started on decoding the Kree writings. Energy readouts and composition scans could tell us a lot, but the more detailed aspects of Kree technology would remain forever out of our reach if we couldn't even read the instruction manual.

Of course, putting Sterns or Phineas on the Kree language would mean I'd have a basic cipher at the end of the week at the _very_ latest, but there was no immediate hurry, and it kept Agnes busy, so I figured I'd just leave her to it. She uploaded all her findings anyways, should it become imperative to me to learn the Kree language, then I could always forward what Agnes had discovered to my Think Tank, which would speed up their own descriptions by a lot as well.

Giving a thankful nod to Kitsworth, I turned towards Radcliffe, who was looking at me with an exited grin on his face as he sat nearly bouncing in his seat.

What is it with my scientists when they have both an increased intelligence and advanced alien stuff to play with? It's like watching a kid on a caffeine high, honestly.

"Michael! I did it! I understand now!" the scientist laughs as he jumps up from his seat, grabbing a glass sheet from his desk as he approaches me.

With a gesture, a bunch of screens jump up from the plate, most of them showing spectrometer analyses, material compositions and… a DNA strand?

Looking at Radcliffe from the corner of my eye, I wordlessly prompt the man to start talking, which he does with great enthusiasm.

"When I checked Skye's blood like you asked me to, I noticed these irregularities in her DNA. At first I thought that she was merely enhanced through gene-editing, like Jessica was. But then Skye told me that she had never experienced any superhuman senses or powers, so I began to dig deeper. I started comparing her DNA to a human baseline, Jessica, you and most of the Extremis and Amber Armor enhanced within Othrys. And I discovered something _amazing_ : there are no signs that Skye's anomalous sequences were added later in life, meaning that she was born with them. _But_ they just scream 'artificial' to me, meaning that someone managed to create targeted changes in Skye's parents or grandparents or whatever, which were genetically transmitted onto her!"

To me, this is old news, but to someone who was unaware that the Inhumans were created by the Kree, I guess it was somewhat of a revelation.

"And _here's_ the amazing part! Those sequences in her DNA-template? They aren't doing anything. They're just waiting for a trigger, after which they will activate. Into what, I have absolutely no idea, but I can only imagine that it will be something akin the superpowers the people at Othrys and in the Avengers have displayed!"

Seeing the man nearly hopping on his toes, I can't quite contain a grin at the sight of the happy scientist.

"That's not all, isn't it?"

"Nope! You see, and this is the _really_ amazing part, which I could not have figured out if Agnes hadn't made some headway in deciphering the writing on the Kree-artefact you brought to me. We don't know what is written on the object _exactly_ , but the text is positively riddled with mentions of 'rebirth', 'awakening' and 'activation' and all that crap. With Skye's bloodwork in mind, I started performing every possible test I could think off on the device, and the readings that I got form it confirmed my suspicions: something is _inside_ of it, and whatever the hell it is, it can act as the trigger for the changes in Skye's DNA! Michael! The _Kree_ have experimented on ancient _humans_! They gave us _superpowers_!"

I make sure to play up my surprise at Radcliffe's revelation, even though I of course knew this already. However, since nobody that was either Inhuman, Kree, or a trans-dimensional traveler ought to know this information, I had to act suitably taken off-guard by the revelation that aliens have experimented on humans thousands of years ago.

"Whoa. That's _amazing_ Holden, good job. Have you told Skye about it?"

"Has he told me about what?"

Turning around at the slightly out of breath voice behind me, I smile as I watch Skye jump from the lowest ramp onto the floor (which is free from dust and sand, since both Skye and Agnes had started to go crazy from the unkempt appearance of their temporary abode, so the older woman had roped the mutant into helping her sweep the floors and stuff like that, giving the antechamber we were in an almost homey feel).

"Hello Skye, you're just in time."

"Just in time for what?" the girl asks as she approaches us, dusting off her hands and greeting us with a happy grin.

"Tell me Skye… how would you like for me to unlock the superpowers that have been hidden inside you from the day you were born?"

"…"

"…"

"… what the _shit_?!"

* * *

It had taken a bit of time to get Skye caught up to speed (mostly because she kept interrupting us with questions, forcing me to reveal tiny bits and pieces of her past to her in order to keep her compliant, while hiding enough so that I can use it as leverage against her at a later date, should the need ever arise), but once she got the general gist of it, she had immediately signed up for superpowers.

While things were better now that she had Darcy to connect with, Sky confided in me and Radcliffe (who was turning into a sort of weird, mad-scientist type kind of honorary uncle for the young woman) that girls-night out with Jessica had always been, while a _lot_ of fun, also a bit skewed, due to Jessica being so much more powerful than Skye.

While there were unpowered humans living in Othrys, mostly the family of the people that worked for me, Skye felt that she was far more at home in the active-duty department, where her baseline humanity was something that made her feel very much out of place (though once Darcy showed up, the two women quickly bonded over Tasers, which meant that I couldn't sleep for _days_ ).

So superpowers?

To quote Skye: "Oh _hell_ yeah."

We didn't make her go through Terrigenesis immediately of course. Radcliffe insisted that he first clear a controlled environment back at Othrys, and he wanted a second opinion of Sterns amongst others in taking a look over Skye's DNA. I had also assured him that I would order everyone in my Think-Tank on decrypting the Kree language in their spare-time (Agnes didn't seem to mind the extra hands in deciphering the nonsensical scribbles), which would give us a greater amount of knowledge on the Diviner.

But at the end of this week, everything would be in place for Daisy Johnson to undergo Terrigenesis.

The thing was, due to the DNA inside her being only the trigger-sequence for the whole process, with the eventual changed sequences being completely random, there was every chance that Skye might develop different powers this time around.

Hell, she could turn into the female-version of the Thing for all I know (which is why I agreed to the mass of safety precautions that Radcliffe had insisted on, a mix of pride and worry in his eyes whenever he looked at the eager Skye).

After acquiescing to the scientist's demands, promising that I would do everything in my power to ensure that Skye would emerge from the experience as healthy as a horse (though hopefully not _looking_ like one either), I _finally_ make my way back to Othrys, heading towards my own labs.

Kree-technology, Celestial biology, Chitauri reverse engineering, creation of a Planetary Defense Force (indebted to, and subtly controlled by me), harnessing of the Tesseract…

The only thing left was what was currently stashed inside my office, and I can't quite contain a tired smile when the blast shield doors open smoothly before me, my eyes landing on the object in question.

Dropping into my reinforced and highly comfortable office chair, I roll over towards my desk, on which sits one of the most important objects currently on planet Earth.

Light gleams across the golden surface of Loki's scepter as I shift underneath the bright lamps of the lab, my eyes intently fixed on the blue gem behind the wickedly curved blade.

After the Invasion had ended, I had wanted nothing more than to take my two Infinity Stones and study them to my heart's content, locking myself inside Othrys' labs if I had to.

Unfortunately, I simply hadn't had the time. The PDF was only one of numerous things that I needed to get started on now that I was still the hero of the planet, my fame at an all-time high. My days after the Invasion were filled with making public appearances during the clean-up of New York, giving interviews and addressing the UN and approving of the deals that Jeri had managed to secure for me, ranging from retrieving aliens to rebuilding Manhattan.

Due to the largest amount of damage being done to the city-center, a lot of commercial buildings and businesses had been damaged, which had put an abrupt halt on international business, though communication and electricity steadily started returning to the city. In some cases entire databanks had been wiped away, either by Chitauri weapons or by a Leviathan simply wiping away an entire floor housing servers.

In short, Manhattan _needed_ to be rebuilt, and it needed to be rebuilt _fast_. It wasn't just a point of pride for the U.S. (though that certainly factored in as well) but also simply good business sense. You can't trade with your oversee partners if your HQ has been deemed a structural hazard due to an alien bioship having crashed into it.

Of course it didn't go unnoticed that Othrys had gone throughout the entire Invasion without a scratch. It wasn't an entirely accurate assesement, since Phineas later told me a small group of Chitauri had landed on the island during the battle, who had managed to fight their way towards the walls of Othrys after the jungle had claimed about half of their number. Their energy weapons had scorched parts of the outer wall, but it was an easy fix, so when the people looked from the rubble of Manhattan to the gleaming ode to strength and durability that was Othrys, a lot of them had the same thought.

'I want that too.'

Which is why Hogarth was flooded with calls from just about every company whose main building had suffered under the Chitauri attack. It was far too much for both me and Toomes to handle (the man still had his hands full with hauling off and securing the aliens and their tech), so I made sure to ask Toomes for local construction companies, who I had then trained by some of my own workers in the use of powerloaders and ferrocrete which I sold to them.

Then I sold designs for new buildings to the companies who wanted a Titan-approved new headquarters, who I in turn advised to hire the local construction companies which I had supplied with advanced technology in the first place.

They didn't really have a choice, since the designs I gave them would be impossible to realize without the durability and structural integrity that the materials Burstein had developed could provide (he had also managed to create highly durable versions of both glass and plastics, due to the way he layered their molecular structure in a similar way to the Amber Armor).

In a few months' time, the center of New York would look like it belonged on the setting of Warframe or with the Forerunners from Halo.

I'd like to see the alien that visits Earth in a few decennia who would still have the balls to call it a mere backwater.

Mostly because by that time, I'll be Earth's God-Emperor, but that's neither here nor there.

For now though, I put all that business crap out of my mind as I gleefully rub my hands together, leaning forwards to the brilliant gem embedded in the alien weapon in front of me. I know that there's a _lot_ of research that I still need to do before I can use what lies within to the fullest extent, but now I can _finally_ -

The doors to my lab hisses open and I can hear two sets of footsteps approach me. Looking over my shoulder, I see Sterns and Jessica approaching me, and neither one of them look all that happy. It's Jessica who speaks up first.

"Michael. We need to talk."

…

Ah, _shit_.

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Marvel got around a law that increases taxes on toys that resemble humans by claiming that X-Men figures were mutants, not humans.

 **AN:** Sorry this took a bit longer to get out, my parents are moving and I spent much of the weekend helping them pack their stuff. Originally I had wanted this story to end with Michael having finished all of his projects and taking off into space, but the chapter was getting way too long, so I cut it off here. The good news is that it means that I have the first part of the next chapter already written. The _bad_ news is that next week, I'm extremely busy (I have helped organize no less than _three_ activities, so… yeah) and my parents are nowhere near done getting everything ready for the big move, so next weekend I'll probably still be helping them out most of the time. I'll try and see whether or not I can update next week, but otherwise it'll probably be sometime during the week after that.

 _As awlays, major shout out to my amazing Patrons, AndrewDC_MAC2, Miu, justlovereadin, Carn Krauss, ReapeScythe, Thordur hrafn, Daniel Dorfman and Samuel Carson! Thanks for your support! I cannot thank you guys enough for willing to support me as you do, so thanks again!_


	35. The Talk

_**The Talk**_

* * *

Ah. The four most dreaded words a man in a relationship will ever hear in his life.

"We need to talk."

It will either mean the end of something (a break-up), the beginning of something (pregnancy), something trivial ( _finally_ putting out the trash as promised) or something terrible (the passing of a family member).

The moment Jessica said those words to me with a drawn expression on her face, I knew that I would inevitability be confronted with at least one (or god forbid, _all_ ) of them, it was just a matter of finding out which one.

Not that I was eager to find out, mind you, but Jessica was standing in the doorway of my labs and tough enough that I couldn't simply run past her. I could portal away of course, but I would have to return to Othrys at _some_ point, and Phineas would know the second I did, which meant that Jessica would as well.

Better to do this here and now.

Quick. Like a band aid.

Rolling my chair away from my desk, I slowly come to my feet, towering over Sterns and Jessica, crossing my beefy arms in front of my massive chest, silently underlining who in this room actually holds the power.

Of course, I'm talking to probably the only two people on the planet who are completely immune to my grandstanding.

"Really? What do we need to talk about?"

" _Everything_! Fuck, Michael! The entire goddamned world is losing its fucking mind because we just got invaded by fucking _aliens_! Everyone is just panicking, and doesn't have a clue about what they need to do! _Everyone_! Everyone… except _you_. You knew that Loki would invade. You knew that New York would be attacked. _Fuck_ Michael, you practically had crews waiting in order to fix the city in your image!" Jessica explodes, clearly unleashing quite a bit of pent up stress.

"Anything else?" I coolly ask, as I raise an eyebrow in her direction, watching as her lips press together to form a thin white line, her eyes narrowing in anger.

I tolerate a lot from Jessica, what with us being in a relationship and all. But (verbally) attacking me in my own labs, my inner sanctum?

That's asking for trouble.

Sterns, immediately reading my mood switch, quickly takes a half-step forwards, placing a restraining palm on Jessica's forearm. Despite the gesture being purely symbolic (even with the augmentations that Sterns has performed on himself, I sincerely doubt that outside of myself, the Hulk and the Abomination, there's a human who's strong enough to restrain Jessica. Thor doesn't count, he's a god), Jessica still backs down, taking a deep breath as her stance becomes less confrontational.

Turning to look towards my oldest friend (who I only met about two and a half years ago, isn't that a sad realization to make) I lift my chin challengingly in his direction.

"And what about you Sam? You feel the same way?"

Sterns only hesitates for a single moment, before he squares his shoulders, giving a firm nod.

"Yes, Michael. I've been with you from the start, I have followed you longer than anyone else here at Othrys. And over the years that I have known you, you have consistently shown an nearly impossible amount of knowledge about the world. You knew that I had Hulk-blood, even when Dr. Banner himself hadn't. You knew that A.I.M. was secretly working on Extremis, even when most people hadn't even heard about their existence. You made a beeline from New York to the hideout of Ulysses Klaue, not for his weapons, but for his stash of Vibranium, which he kept hidden from the entire world, Wakandan War Dogs included, for _thirty years_ , longer than you have been _alive_. Then you showed that you not only knew that Erik Stevens, a J-SOC Ghost, existed, but that he was secretly Wakandan royalty as well, something _Wakanda_ didn't even know! And _then_ you make a beeline to Noah in order to be made bulletproof, despite Noah never even publishing any part of that particular research of his. Not only do you know that the Hand and Hydra exist, you even managed to trick both of them into attacking the other! And _then_ you anticipate an _alien invasion_ of all things!"

Like Jessica, Sterns needs to take a bit of a breath, before he crosses his arms in front of his chest, his face set in grim determination (though I spot the brief wince of remorse that flits over his face).

"Michael. I have followed you for years. And I _want_ to keep following you, I do. But not like this. Not with you always a hundred steps ahead of everyone, including your own people. You said so yourself, Michael, we are your _friends_. I'm not asking you to share all of your deepest darkest secrets: I'm just asking that you _trust_ us."

I slowly blink as I take in my friend's words, trying to digest everything he's said. There's only one conclusion that I can make.

' _Fuck. What is it with people all up in my business lately? First the Ancient One, now this?'_

Giving a deep sigh, I rub my bald head as I frown in thought, trying to figure out the best way to deal with these. Because Sterns is right: these _are_ my friends. It has been so long that I haven't had any of those, actually dealing with the idea of having them again is proving to be somewhat… problematic.

Still, that doesn't mean I'm just going to open up about everything, and especially not about me being an reincarnate. That's not something I'm willing to share with everyone in this universe. Not only would most of them immediately declare me insane, but who knows what it would do to the fabric of the universe if sentient life discovered that (from a certain viewpoint) they weren't real?

At the very least, in-universe societies might collapse due to planet wide mass-panic and debauchery.

Still, that didn't mean that I couldn't reveal _some_ parts of my past and future plans to them.

Or rather, make them believe that I had.

"Fine." I bite out, as I take a seat again, throwing my feet up on my desk.

I pointedly don't offer them a seat as well, forcing them to remain standing in the door opening (the reinforced office chair and heavy solid titanium work-table were the only pieces of 'real' furniture in my lab, everything else needed to be created with hardlight through my voice command, including chairs for visitors).

"Where should I start?"

"Let's start with the goddamned _aliens_ , and then just work from there, yeah? See where this takes us." Jessica offered snidely, but I merely gave a calm nod instead, my mind racing as I thought on what to say.

I had some vague ideas on how to excuse my actions, but it has been well over a week since the invasion. With all that was going on and that needed my personal attention, when nobody challenged me I just of… let it slip to the background of my thoughts.

Thankfully, the Brain Booster made remembering even half-baked idea's a walk in the park.

"Right. The aliens. I suppose that you want to know how I knew that they would attack Earth?"

"That would be a start, yes." Jessica cuts in again, but Sterns subtly nudges her in the side, telling her to cool it.

"Well, I was warned."

"Warned? By whom?"

"Bast."

"Bast? The kitty God-thing that was all up in your face to fight the invasion while she kept sitting on her ass?!"

"Well, I _was_ her champion, so as a God, it's kind of her prerogative to send me into battle while she keeps sitting on her ass, yes."

Before Jessica can continue her incredulous question, Sterns leans forwards a bit, a deep frown on his face.

"Wait. _Was_?"

Giving a sly grin, I fold my hands behind my head as I lean backwards in my chair.

"Hopefully, yes. Bast had a deal with me: _one_ order, fulfilled in whatever manner she wished. During the Invasion, she _ordered_ me to fight, and I did. If she's a God who follows the rules, then she'll acknowledge that she's used up her orders, but a God following rules is a bit of an oxymoron… _well_ , fingers crossed."

"So, wait, let me get this straight. A drug-fuelled acid trip of the highest caliber allowed you to talk to a _literal_ god, who warned you that aliens were going to attack, making you a deal that you would follow _one_ order in whatever way she wished. And then, when the alien invasion _does_ happen, you claim not to want to fight, _forcing_ the god to use up her one remaining order to get you to fight anyways?"

For a moment, there's silence in my lab as I and Jessica merely stare at each other, before I give a shrug.

"Pretty much, yeah."

Jessica raises her eyebrows a bit as gives me a considering look.

"Huh. Damn."

I grin, but Sterns is quick to jump in and bring the conversation back on track.

"Look, that explains you knowing about the aliens. But how the hell did you know about the rest? Wakanda's existence, obscure and secret research, ancient artefacts and organizations, all of that?"

This time I'm quicker to answer, turning to look Sterns in the eye with the perfect expression of honesty even as I lie through my teeth.

"I know you've read the few documents that Pangborn has written and uploaded to the cloud Sterns, even if he said that you lack the Gift. Tell me, what do you know about the Astral Plane?"

Sterns briefly pauses, clearly somewhat surprised at my sudden question, but he responds nonetheless.

"It's a different dimension from the current one we inhabit. More mental, or _spiritual_ if you prefer, than this material world. Due to being in a metaphysical state, it exist in neither the same time or place as this dimension, though with proper mental focus and the proper application of exotic energy, it can be accessed, though only in mind. The body remains in this dimension." He says, almost quoting Pangborn's written excerpts to the letter, even though it's been well over a month since my Court Magician uploaded that particular file.

"Correct! And _there's_ the explanation for my exotic knowledge! The Astral Plane exists out of _time and space_. When I was in there, I was forced to undergo Bast's trials. Either I'd pass them and live… or I'd fail them and die an unimaginably painful death. Thankfully, I persevered and was made Bast's Champion. That's when she showed me the future. But I was in the Astral Plan: Earthly concepts of time carry little weight there. I saw _beyond_ the Invasion… and _before_ it as well. And when I returned to my body, that experience, of viewing past, present and future resonated throughout my time in this dimension as well. From when I was young, I have remembered seeing these flashes of insight, of things that I didn't know exist, or when they would happen. I have been living my life from one future memory to the next, never knowing where they came from, until I met Bast in the Astral Plane."

Both Jessica and Sterns stare at me with absolutely stunned expressions on their faces, before Sterns hesitantly starts talking again.

"So the reason you knew where to go, and what to find, and who to contact… was because at a later point in time, you would be rewarded with a vision of time by a goddess who resides in a plane outside of time and space, which resonated back through your life, essentially passing your older memories onto a younger version of yourself?"

Again, all I could do was shrug, trying not to show any relief on my face when it seemed that the two of them would be willing to buy my story.

"The reality of it is probably a hell of a lot more complicated, but as far as I can figure, that's the gist of it, yes."

Jessica speaks up again, her expression somewhat troubled now, though for some reason she seems pretty intent still on challenging me.

"So. You met a god."

"Yes."

"Who showed you the future."

"Yes."

"And during the process, your memories were sent back through time as well."

"Well, back and _forwards_ , but since the future me has yet to exist, that's a bit less impactful than altering the memories of my past self, but basically yes."

"So you knew about Loki's Invasion all along."

"… yes…"

"And you knew that the Staff was crucial."

"… where are you going with this, Jess?"

"Where I'm going with this? I'm starting to wonder _why the hell you left that fucking portal open_?!" Jessica roared suddenly, her eyes exploding with heat as the air around her starts to shimmer.

Almost reflexively, I stand up tall, my own body also rapidly heating up with Extremis, though I haven't fallen into a combat stance yet. Jessica doesn't seem to care, however, or even notice for that matter.

"What the fuck were you even _thinking_?! Why the hell did you wait for the Invasion at all?! Why not shut down the portal immediately?! For fuck's sakes, why _let it be built at all_!? What _possible_ excuse can you have that would justify letting New York City be shot to shit?!" Jessica yells as she approaches me, moving to push against my chest.

My hand lashes out before she can make contact, however, my meaty fist closing around her slim wrist in a flash. I'm exerting a pretty large amount of pressure (given Jessica's sheer strength, I kinda have to) but not enough for it to hurt.

I'm all for equal treatment: a woman hits me, I'll hit right back (though of course factoring in the fact that I can fold a car in half like it was made out of cardboard so I don't take someone's head off. It's bad for business). Still, that doesn't mean that I want to hurt my girlfriend, at least not until she makes the first move.

Even then, between Amber Armor and Extremis, Jessica can take a hit and not even notice it after a few hours.

Still, it's the principle of the thing.

Increasing my hold on Jessica in the slightest amount, just to let her know that I'm not fucking around here, I lower my head until I'm looking her right in her eyes, molten orange meeting orange.

"There's no excuse that would justify all that destruction. _Nothing_ can justify death on such a scale. But in the past, excuses _have_ been made, for higher death-tolls than the Invasion claimed. Specifically, at the end of World War II, when Japan was forced to surrender."

Sterns is a second earlier on the uptake than Jessica (not a surprise, between his sheer intelligence, and Jessica's obvious emotional state) judging by the way his eyes widen, but Jessica wasn't dumb even before I boosted her intelligence, and she cottons on quickly as well.

"The WSC…" she breathes, to which I give a grave nod.

"The flashes that Bast showed me… they were like impressionist paintings, or blurry photographs. A rapid collection of stills, but each one with a clear focus. The aliens invading, the blue beam of the Tesseract… and eventually an all-consuming fireball, leaving only ashes in its wake. Inadvertently also paving the way for the aliens to continue their Invasion undeterred. I _had_ to stop that at all costs. Whatever else happened, the portal had to remain open until the WSC launched their foolish attempt. I just hadn't imagined that they'd wait so long. From what Bast showed me, the Invasion couldn't have lasted more than a few minutes at best, an hour tops."

Jessica is clearly struggling with what I'm saying, carefully going over the words in her head. Judging by the fire in her eyes, I'm not off the hook just yet.

"If you wanted to prevent the WSC from launching a nuke, then why not fucking close that goddamned portal before shit hit the fan in the first place? You know that it could be done, so why not do it? Why wait so fucking long that people thought a fucking _nuke_ was the brightest idea here?"

"I could close it, yes. That's why I told you not to engage in combat with Loki but run off with the Scepter instead. That _needed_ to be in our hands, or who knows how this Invasion would've ended? So, I had the Scepter, I could _close_ the portal… but how could I be sure that it would _remain_ closed? You saw what was waiting on the other side of the portal. They activated the Tesseract once. What was to stop them from doing so again? Even worse, what if I stopped them here, and then they activated the portal at some other point, when my guard was down because I already thought I had won the day? What if the portal was opened _inside_ Othrys? We all know what happens when the edges of a tear in the fabric of space-time interacts with matter, Hansen gave a safety course on it and everything after I cut her examination equipment. I couldn't risk it. The Chitauri _had_ to be destroyed. Once and for all."

From the corner of my eye I can Sterns' expression fall, and Jessica takes a slow step away from me, her eyes wide.

" _That's_ your answer… Manhattan is fucked… because you wanted a military victory?"

I had expected this. I knew that, no matter what I told them, truth or lie, they would have a lot of trouble accepting the fact that I _allowed_ the Invasion to happen. I had accepted that the only thing I could do was make it appear that I had allowed it for the sake of mankind, instead of personal gain.

I had anticipated all of that.

What I _hadn't_ anticipated, however, was how much their betrayed looks would hurt.

"Jessica. The aliens that wanted to turn Earth into a wasteland… that wanted to kill, or enslave, 7 _billion_ people, they are gone now. Forever. New York will be rebuilt, stronger than before. Humanity as a whole is uniting under a single banner, transcending national hang-ups. They look to the stars now, and recognize the dangers and opportunities they _truly_ represent. They look at themselves and decide that they want to be made _better_. Humanity is moving _forwards_ Jessica. If I had to fight aliens for an entire day, in order to advance my people by a decade, then I would do so." I say, trying my best to show these people that I care a surprising amount for that I'm not a monster.

Judging from Jessica shaking her head, I can tell that I'm not entirely successful.

"Who the hell are you to make that decision, Michael. Just because people call you by a god's name, doesn't make you one. You decided that all the people in Manhattan… the office workers, the street vendors, the school children and stay at home moms… you decided that they were all _expendable_. I wonder what they think about that decision. Fuck, with the amount of power you´re gaining, I wouldn´t be surprised if in a couple of years you´ll find a way to ask the dead themselves. I don´t think you´ll like their answer." Jessica says softly, before she turns away from me, slowly making her way out of my lab.

"Jess! Jess, wait! Goddammit woman, what was I supposed to do?! I only tried to do what I thought was right! The thing that would benefit the most people, the thing that would advance _humanity_! Who am I?! Who the hell are _you,_ to act so high and mighty about the decision I made for the good of _everybody_?! JESSICA! **DON'T TURN YOUR BACK ON ME**!"

Jessica freezes in place, and I can spot Sterns hurriedly move between me and the woman who's almost a the door, his face clearly showing his shock. In the silence that rings throughout my lab, I briefly wonder what the hell just happened, before I notice a slight glow coming from the bottom right of my field.

Looking down, dread pooling in my stomach, I see what I was afraid I'd find.

My fist, lit up with Extremis and Chi… holding the Scepter.

As if burned, I throw the Scepter away from me, letting it clatter across the floor of my lab. Turning back to look at Sterns and Jessica, I see that Jessica is now gazing back at me, while Sterns is standing beside her, fingering something in his pocket, though he doesn't pull whatever he's gotten hidden there.

"Jessica… I'm… I'm sorry, I… I just don't, I want to… I want to _understand_. I understand why you would disagree with my actions. I have been rethinking them, doubting them, and kicking myself over them my _entire life_ , ever since I was a child and I woke up one night with the memories of me two decades later. I have _tried_ to just do… the best I could. And I get it, I really do. I was there during the clean-up, I saw the ruins, help dig out the bodies… what happened there shouldn't have ever happened in the first place. But compared to what would've happened if I _hadn't_ done what I did… who knows what _could've_ happened Jessica? A few for the many, it sucks, and only a bastard like me could call a shot like that… but why does this bother you _now_? You have me seen do things that are morally even more dubious, for a far less noble purpose. Why are my actions suddenly such an issue for you now?"

For a long moment, Jessica seems to debate whether or not she should answer my hesitantly worded question, or if she should simply keep on storming out of my office, and maybe knock down the door for good measure.

Eventually, she decides on the former, because she lifts her head, chin raised high as she stares me straight in my eyes.

I'm surprised to find… fear, there. But not because of me (thank god).

"Because… I'm pregnant."

* * *

 **(Fun) Fact:** In the Marvel comics series "Spider-Man: Reign", set 30 years in the future, it is revealed that Mary Jane Watson, Peter Parker's wife, has died from cancer brought on by Peter's radioactive semen.

 **AN:** So, quick explanation as to why this chapter is so damned short: Exams, plain and simple. For the next two weeks, I'll be completely focused on that. I had more written, but I was having trouble actually finishing it, and then I realized that I have been making you guys wait for a while. It would be (what is called in bird culture) a dick-move to not upload for three weeks straight (considering the crash I'll probably have once exams are over, maybe even four). So instead, I cut off this part of the larger chapter, and humbly offer it to you now. An appeasement, so you may find the patience in your gracious hearts to give this writer a few weeks off in order to not fail his education. Thank you for your generosity (if I sound bitchy, it's because I've slept six hours for the last two days. Or maybe three. What date is it?). See you all after the exams!

 _As awlays, major shout out to my amazing Patrons, AndrewDC_MAC2, Miu, justlovereadin, Carn Krauss, ReapeScythe, Thordur hrafn, Daniel Dorfman and Samuel Carson! Thanks for your support! I cannot thank you guys enough for willing to support me as you do, so thanks again!_


	36. Babytalk

**_Babytalk_**

* * *

"What…?" I slowly ask, my eyes as wide as they'll go, staring at Jessica who is looking at me with her chin held high, though her own eyes betray her fear.

"I'm pregnant." She states again, as if to convince herself of it as well.

"But… but that… how is that even possible?" I ask numbly, feeling faintly as if there's a steel vice slowly tightening around my lungs.

I mean yeah, sure I know _how_ it is possible, I had the same brids and the bees talk that everybody else did, and it wasn't as if conventional anti-conception methods would work for us, so we hadn't bothered with those either...

Still, the whole reason why I didn't ask my Think Tank to create a superpower-proof condom (beside the obvious mortification of actually doing something like that) was because there _shouldn't_ be any need for it. My genetic template was fucked up enough that one could have a serious argument over whether or not I still classified as 'human' at this point, and honestly, Jessica wasn't all that far behind.

Jessica struggles to answer my hollow question, so Sterns takes a half step forwards, drawing my gaze to him as he explains how on Earth this could've happened.

"If merely science were involved in this, then I would've put the odds of either one of you being capable of conceiving at all, let alone with each other, so astronomically low as to be virtually non-existent. Except, we're _not_ dealing with merely science here. Othrys has become so magically attuned due to all of the spells being performed here, not to mention how closely Phineas' soul is tied to it, that we're currently standing in the second most magically charged building on the North American continent. The only location more magically attuned is the Sanctum here in New York. And of course, there's your own Chi, Michael. It is a potent enough energy that it was capable of keeping Phineas away from death. Apparently, it can also aid in the creation of _life_."

That steel vice around my lungs? Yeah, pretty sure it's made out of Vibranium at this point. My head is spinning and I can feel how my breath is coming out in short shallow gasps.

"I… I'm not ready for this…"

As I slowly sink back down into my chair, resting my head in both my hands, I try to understand why I'm reacting this badly. I'm not having a panic attack (I think), but the very thought of suddenly becoming a father, in a universe not of my own, on a quest to become the most powerful being in existence...

How could I possibly have a child?

... Did I even _want_ a child?

The concept of becoming a parent wasn't something new to me, to be honest. I had been thinking about having kids even back in my old universe, now more than twenty years ago. And during my second childhood in this one, I had also given the concept some thought. But in this universe, there had been absolutely no doubt.

I would not- no, I _could not_ have any children.

It would take too much time and attention to care for, and it would distract me from pursuing my ultimate goal.

It's quite difficult to become omnipotent when you're stuck changing diapers.

With my decision made back when I had yet to even hit puberty for the second time (don't ask, it was horrible for everyone involved and at this point I'd like to pretend it never even happened at all), and with all the changes to my body making me practically infertile, the dilemma of having kids became a non-issue, and so I had pushed it to the back of my mind, completely forgetting about it over time.

Of course, my thoughts briefly returned to it once I had begun sleeping with Jessica, but like Sterns had said, the odds of her actually becoming pregnant were just about non-existent.

I forgot to account for the fact that Magic doesn't really give two shits about probability however.

So… now what?

I had decided early on that I _couldn't_ have kids if I ever wished to achieve my goal. But I had never said anything about not _wanting_ kids. The idea of having a son or daughter was absolutely mind-numbingly terrifying, and I just kept coming up with reasons why having any children at all could only end in disaster.

And yet, despite all that, the idea of having a little baby boy or girl… I couldn't help but acknowledge that some part of me wished to have that.

I had already become attached to the people of this universe, what was one attachment more, whispered that part of my mind to me. The plan of keeping myself emotionally distant from everybody else in order to focus solely on becoming Omnipotent flew out of the window the moment that I stopped seeing them as characters, but as actual persons instead. I had already become tied down to this universe when I started making friends, and even more so when I started a relationship.

So, why _not_ pursue this? Wasn't that an equally fulfilling dream? To start a family, becoming the Parr-equivalent of the MCU. Why not? I had sacrificed so much for the concept of power, became a person most would either label a criminal or a mad-man in pursuit of it. A never-ending mad scramble for that next power-up, that next increase to my strength, that next addition to my vast arsenal.

Why not kick back for a bit? Why not slow it down, get a little me-time? Wasn't power merely for power's sake a hollow pursuit in the end? Was adding a little mundaness, something _worthwile_ like a family, to the insanity that had become my life really so bad?

But even as that part of me was advocating the idea of having children, the rest of me had a single word ready to shut that line of thinking down hard.

Thanos.

The man who set me on this path to begin with. I woke up in a universe with the knowledge that my life could end at the behest of a madman's warped vision for the galaxy. Everything that had happened up till now had been in light of making sure that that could never happen.

A family didn't change that. It merely broadened the scope from what I needed to protect (gazing at Sterns from the corner of my eye, I realized that my scope had been broadened sometime ago, without me even noticing it).

As long as he lived, whatever family I would end up having would always be in danger. I could protect them from any threats on Earth itself, or from outer space. Even interdimensional entities like Dormammu could be stopped.

But against something like the Snap?

The only thing that I could do to protect me and mine from it, was to make sure that there wouldn't be a Snap in the first place. Until the threat of Thanos had been removed, I could never settle down, no matter if part of me started liking the prospect of that more and more.

Of course, I could agonize all I wanted over having kids, but starting a family takes two. With my breaths now coming more easily than before (though that damn Vibranium vice remained stubbornly in place) I looked up at Jessica, who was looking at me with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

I could tell that she was disappointed in my reaction to the news. Not that she was to blame for that. When you tell your man that you're pregnant with his child, no matter your own feelings on the matter of having kids, you don't really want to see him look as if you told him you just ran over his dog or something.

"Do… do you know what it'll be?" I ask, switching to another question before I even get the second word out.

Jessica picks up on it of course, but answers nonetheless, apparently relieved to stay away from that topic just a little bit longer as well.

"No. It's early days, I haven't even missed my period yet, though it should've come soon. The only reason we found out so soon was because I went in for a scheduled check-up, and Maya noticed an anomaly in the hormone levels in my blood." Jessica says, gripping her arms slightly tighter as she probably remembers the shock when Hansen told her that she was pregnant.

Routine _physical_ check-ups (I had yet to find the time to start the hiring progress for a therapist, I really should just send Phineas a memo about it or something) were mandatory in Othrys, and considering the exotic and often hazardous material we worked with (my mind flashes to the veritable treasure trove of alien bodies and technology in my basement) everybody agreed with that regulation. In almost all cases Phineas handled the exams, but since some of the women felt uncomfortable being examined by a man who technically wasn't a medical professional (Phineas had applied to several med schools though, but while he was acing every single exam, there were still mandatory sections to the curriculum he couldn't test out of, so progress was inhibited) Hansen had offered herself as an alternative.

Jessica mostly switched over to Hansen because the two were friends and took those check-ups as opportunities to simply hang out more than anything else though.

"I… see." I slowly say, before I try to swallow, my mouth feeling like a particularly sandy desert in an annoyingly sunny summer.

"Do you… do you want to…. keep it?" I haltingly ask, though I manage to keep looking Jessica in the eye.

For a moment, the silence in my labs becomes almost deafening, a nearly physical presence to it, like a cloying blanket constricting us.

"Yes." Jessica finally says and I can tell from her tone of voice that this is something that she has been endlessly debating with herself for what's likely to be days now.

She's scared out of her wits, but also determined as hell. There's not a doubt in my mind that if I were to push for abortion, she'd try to put me through the nearest wall.

"Jess…"

"Look, don't say it, okay? Everything you wanna say to me, I've said a hundred times myself. _Maya_ said it to me when I cried in her lab that day. _Neither_ one of us are ready for kids, Michael. We're too young, too busy and nowhere near nice enough to raise children. _Fuck_ Michael, you're a ruthless asshole and I'm a pushy bitch! We're not parent material! _Fuck_ , we aren't even Aunt and Uncle material!" Jessica quickly blurts out, and I can hear her breathing picking up as her tone rises in pitch.

Seeing her glowing eyes becoming wet, I abandon all of my own fears and doubts as I rise from my chair, crossing the distance between me and Jessica with a few quick steps, engulfing her in my beefy arms as I draw her in close to my broad chest, feeling her entire frame tremble.

Resting my chin on her head, I slowly rock back and forth, patiently waiting for her to find her composure again, slowly rubbing circles into her back. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a faint smile come on Stern's face as he looks on with a relieved expression.

"But?" I slowly rumble as I feel Jessica take a deep breath.

"But… I _want_ to be parent material. I _want_ to be the type a person a little boy or girl could point at with pride and say 'look! That's _my_ Mom!'. I want that Michael. Maybe not while I was still this young, but… what if I _can't_ get pregnant a second time? We both know that this is a miracle Michael. An actual, _literal_ miracle. I don't want to throw away my chance at being a mom because I was scared and wanted to try again later only to find out that I blew my one shot already."

I nod at her answer, hesitating slightly before voicing the question that has been plaguing my mind for the past few minutes.

"And… me? How do I fit into that?"

The unasked question of whether or not I featured at all was clearly understood, Jessica pulling slightly away in order to look up into my eyes with a searching gaze, though she didn't break the hug.

"Michael… we aren't parent material. Nowhere _near_ close. A child... a child shouldn't have a drunk as a Mom. Just take a look at how fucked up Triss and me turned out, we should know. But... a child shouldn't have a... a _warlord_ who condones death on a massive scale as a Dad either. But that can change. _We_ can change. I'm… I'm quitting alcohol. Completely. Forever, and considering how my body has changed, that might not even be a metaphor. It doesn't affect me much these days, but I don't want to risk anything happening to the baby and I don't ever want to risk backsliding to how I was when... when you met me. So, I'm going to… to join a couple of AA meetings each week. Trish could use the support as well."

Jessica trails off, looking up at me with a raised eyebrow. It's clear that, having told me her own self-improvement plan, she wants to hear mine as well. Wants to hear me say that I'll tone things down. In her mind, the battle has been won and Othrys is standing at the top of the foodchain. She wants me to tell her that it's good enough for me, for _us_ , that I'll stop killing my way to even more power.

Unfortunately, the one thing that she wants of me, I cannot give her.

I can tell from her expression that she knows what I'm going to say even before I open my mouth, since she breaks the hug, not even bothering to hide her disappointment or sadness from me as she crosses her arms in front of her chest again, though thankfully she doesn't try to walk away this time.

There's nothing to it.

I'll have to reveal my trump card: Thanos.

I had wanted to keep my knowledge of Thanos a secret. Partly because most people (outside of Othrys) would have trouble comprehending that there was an alien warlord on the other end of the galaxy who would kill half of all life in the universe with just a snap of his fingers. Partly because telling people about his plans would inevitably reveal large parts of my own plans as well. And partly because in my Plan, I had always seen Thanos as the Final Boss of a video game, as part of _my_ fight and nobody else's business. There were other dangers along the way as I tried to gain more power, Bosses in their own right, and I would have to beat them if I wanted to see any progress.

But the win condition was _me_ killing Thanos.

He was the guy that I would have to beat if I ever wanted to consider my rise to power truly finished, my story come to a satisfactory end. Otherwise, I would always keep looking over my shoulder, fear of turning to dust a constant companion through my millennia long life.

Still, I feel the need to make Jessica understand why I won't, why I _can't_ be the man she wants as a father for her child.

Not yet, at least.

"Jessica. The aliens that attacked Earth… they were _sent_ here. There are objects of great power on Earth, and an alien warlord got wind of them. His name is Thanos, the Mad Titan, and he wanted to conquer Earth and take these objects for himself. If he had been successful, then there would not be a single force in the known Universe capable of stopping him. He would've gone and completed his own quest for power. Something that must _never_ be allowed to happen. If Thanos accomplishes his goal, he'll be powerful enough to kill half of all life in the universe… with just a snap of his finger. Half of _all_ life Jess. That includes you… and the baby as well. I _can't_ let that happen. Thanos needs to die." I explain, and I can tell that the both of them pick up on the grave tone of voice that I'm using, clearly believing me immediately, unlike last year with the whole Hand-debacle.

They have been around me long enough to not doubt my threat assessments anymore.

"So… that's it then. You're not going to stop killing." Jessica says, though her voice lacks any of its former heat with the threat of Thanos now planted firmly inside her mind.

She doesn't like the idea of me contuining unabated down this path, even now that I'm told I'm going to have a child. But the fact that if I don't, said child, _her_ child might be in danger shakes her conviction and saps her anger. Instead, there's a considering gleam in her eyes now.

"I can't Jess. Thanos needs to die for either one of us to ever settle down. There's nobody else in the universe I would trust with that task. I'm the only one who knows the threat he represents. The only one with the will to act against him. Until his corpse lies at my feet… I'll continue fighting for power. Enough power to kill a fellow Titan."

Turns out he was right.

The hardest choiced do indeed require the hardest wills.

For a moment, Jessica keeps looking into my eyes, her hurt clear for me to see. Then slowly, her gaze hardens, her eyes furrowing as she lifts her chin. The thought of _anyone_ harming her baby lights a fire within her, and I can see her gripping her arms with enough strength to crush cars.

"But you're not going to kill _just_ Thanos, are you? You said it yourself, you need enough power to kill a Titan."

For a moment, my mouth almost refuses to work, to form the words that I know I _need_ to say, no matter how they may change things between us for the worse.

"No. There are _armies_ between me and him, Jess. There are other factions that pose a threat to Earth, to _you_ and the baby. There are ancient, immensly mighty beings out there whose power I need in order to face Thanos. And I'm going to kill them all."

Silence meets my declaration of war (for as much as it counts as one, considering, you know, the guy I'm declaring war on doesn't even know I exist), and I can see Jessica warring with herself. She's struggling with her two main whishes: to start a (relatively) normal, happy family with me, a family in which the father _isn't_ actively cutting a swath of death through the universe, and securing the safety of said potential family.

As it turns out, she can't have both.

Eventually, she has come to a decision, a deep, tired sigh escaping her.

"I can't help you Michael. I want to. If he's a threat like you say he is, then I want to see this Thanos fucker dead as much as you do. But I'm not risking _anything_ happening to the baby. I can't do this anymore. And considering it would be akward as fuck to live in the same building as my boss, who I don't work for anymore, as well as my boyfriend, who can't quit being a ruthless bastard for his family because if he does then there might not _be_ a family... I'm moving out of Othrys for a while. I know that it might put me in danger, but I'll take Trish and go somewhere deep into the Midwest, under false names and disguises. I'll keep in touch so you guys can portal over to me at the drop of a hat, and when I'm far enough along that my pregnancy becomes clearly visible, I'll return and have the baby here. There's no other place safe enough for it. By the time I return, I expect my man to be ready to become a father to his child. Thanos dies."

I can tell that nothing I'll say at this point will change her mind, so instead I slowly give her a nod.

"Thanos dies."

Nodding back at me, Jessica briefly shuffles in place, clearly feeling somewhat uncomfortable now, since it's a bit unclear where the two of us stand with each other at the moment (one the one hand, she's moving out, on the other hand, she wants to return eventually and continue our relationship... oh god, is this what Ross from Friends felt?). Then she seems to make a snap decision, quickly approaching me and planting a chaste kiss on my lips.

And then she's gone, her leather duster snapping behind her as she stalks out of my labs, quickly rubbing an arm across her eyes as she goes.

For a moment, I watch her leave, before I glance at Sterns out of the corner of my eyes. He's calmly looking back at me, clearly not intending to leave any time soon, so I turn to face him fully, motioning for him to speak.

"So…. A time traveler, huh?" Sterns asks me with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile on his lips.

"In a matter of speaking. You got a gun in that pocket that can kill me?" I ask in return, glancing at where he has still has his wrapped his hand around something hidden.

Sterns' smile widens a bit as he follows my look.

"In a manner of speaking."

For a moment, the both of us just look at each other, before the tension bleeds away as I shoot him a thankful grin.

"Thanks for being here for her Sam. It means a lot to me. You're a good friend."

Sterns simply shrugs his shoulders, though his stance loosens.

"You're the boss-man. Making Jessica the boss-lady. Figured that she could use a third party to mediate between the two of you. God knows that between your stubbornness and her pushiness, the two of you are capable of getting into arguments that can last for days on end. It's a miracle that that hasn't happened yet, to be honest. I figured that at this point, we'd have to rebuilt Othrys up from the ground twice by now." Sterns says with a grin, prompting one from me in return.

"Oh, just shut up Sam. We're not _that_ bad."

Sterns merely grins wider, so instead I decide to smoothly and subtly change the subject.

"We're you really going to shoot me with… whatever you've got in that pocket of yours?" I wonder (like I said, smooth as all hell).

If Sterns thought that whatever little thing he had there was capable of stopping me, then it was _very_ dangerous indeed. My mind immediately flashes to my own one-hit kill weapon: the Goo Gun (I had one incorporated into my armor, but I didn't want to risk firing it at a Chitauri and missing the alien only to accidentally shrink a sky-scraper or something). I wonder what happened between Sterns and Jessica that would create such a bond that his loyalty had shifted to the point that he was willing to kill me in defense of her.

Clearly picking up on my thoughts (maybe even literally. At this point, I don't think there's a single human alive, Phineas included, who can truly grasp just how powerful Sterns' brain is, other than Sterns himself), the scientist waves away my worries as he reveals the… stick?

Wait, that's not a stick…

"Sterns?"

"Yes Michael?"

"Why do you have a Sonic Screwdriver?"

"Oh, Michael, don't be silly. This merely _looks_ like a Sonic Screwdriver!"

"Oh thank God-"

"No, this thing is _far_ more powerful!"

"…what."

"Yes, you see, by studying the Pym Particle theory regarding the Quantum Realm and then applying it to the Cross Particle technology, I have now not only harnessed a small part of the potential of Quantum Energy, but have also made a foray into unraveling the M-Theory, which as you know deals with the very fabric of reality as discovered through various string theories!"

"Sam, no."

"So, after finding a way to interact with the very building blocks of the Macro-universe by channeling Quantum energy into the strings that make up quarks, and thus, all matter, I went back into my research of the Quantum Realm, and tried to use my new control to even further increase my mastery over it and I have discovered something _really_ neat!"

"Sam, stop."

"I have been able to start interacting with Worldlines! It's not complete time-travel _yet_ , but I have been capable of exerting a little bit influence on the fourth-dimensional presence of organisms and objects, which I can direct through my stick!"

"Oh God."

"So, what I would've done was simply point my wand at you, and insert my rough influence over your Worldline, meaning that you would still occupy the same Space, but no longer move through Time. Essentially, I'd freeze you in time in order to put you in a literal time-out until you manage to cool off. Cool huh!?"

"…."

"That's the non-lethal version! It's an extremely heavy-handed approach to interact with Worldlines, not even remotely refined as I wished for it to be. But even just advancing to _that_ point things have malfunctioned spectacularly, with disastrous concequences. But, I took a page out of _your_ book! I thought back to how you saw the malfunctioning of the unfinished Cross Particles when interacting with biomatter not as a bug in the system, but as a feature! So, I took that same mindset to the horrific accidents that can happen when Quantum energy is not properly applied, and I have decided to simply call it a weapon instead! I can now make someone occupy different Spaces at the same Time, essentially turning them into Cosmic dust stretching backwards towards the Big Bang and to the heat death of the universe, simultaneously! And _now_ whenever I do it, I can say I did so on purpose!"

"…"

"…"

"We're all doomed. Doomed I say. Where's my limoncello, I need a drink."

"Michael! Michael wait! I haven't even shown you the function where I create my own pocket dimension! It's really cool, I even made sure that the LED's I taped to the stick light up when I press the button, so it looks like an _actual_ Sonic Screwdriver! Isn't that neat! Of course it's not a _real_ pocket dimension, it's simply space that's folded in on itself and then the outside of it has been shrunk while the inside has been enlarged, so really, it's more like a portable miniature black hole, but that's semantics at this point... Michael? Michael?! Michael, come back!"

* * *

 **Fun Fact (not so fun, to be honest, more just a fact):** In Marvel's mainstream comic's continuity, Pepper Potts conceives a child with Happy Hogan, but she suffers a miscarriage after being assaulted by Iron Man's enemies.

 **AN:** Surprise! I said Monday evening, but I figured I could cut off the chapter here and publish it a bit before schedule. So, again a short chapter, but I had a little time between sobering up and going to classes (I have to go right about now or I'm late) but I really wanted to get this out of my head and to you guys, especially since the cliffhanger of the last chapter got some rather mixed responses. This was planned from the moment I decided to make Jessica pregnant, I hope most of you, if not like, then at least tolerate what I've done with them. I don't intend to simply put Jessica on a bus and only bring her back at the end of the story, but her presence in the story will certainly be a lot less than before. Anyways, I'm running late, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, let me know your thoughts!

 **EDIT:** Sooooo, yeah... The previous version sucked. I was looking at it through rose-colored glasses when I wrote the first draft (that should've warned me, to be honest, since I never upload a chapter before rewriting it once or twice) but I was just so eager to surprise you all with an update _ahead_ of schedule for once (an anomaly in my history as a writer) that I uploaded it nevertheless. Looking back, I should've simply taken the time to write it properly, and say screw you to the deadline. In the words of Shigeru Miyamoto: a delayed game is eventually good, but a rushed game is forever bad. It would've sucked to not be able to keep my promise to you guys, but it sucked way more to see quite a few people drop this story. Which is a shame, since not only do I feel the chapter itself is better now, but this is also the start of a new arc. The people who disliked Jessica's (and the baby's) role in the story should be sticking around instead of leaving, since they are now in the background and Michael will spend the next chapters going back to his murder-happy munchkinry ways, though emotionally now much more mature than before (which was my main motivation for deciding to allow him to have a relationship and eventually a kid in the first place). Oh well, the damage has been done, I suppose. To the readers that are still enjoying this story, thanks for sticking with me even through the parts that you don't like. Without you guys, there wouldn't be a story in the first place, so yeah... thanks.

 _As awlays, major shout out to my amazing Patrons, AndrewDC_MAC2, Miu, justlovereadin, Carn Krauss, ReapeScythe, Thordur hrafn, Daniel Dorfman and Samuel Carson! Thanks for your support! I cannot thank you guys enough for willing to support me as you do, so thanks again!_


	37. Mind over Matter

_**Mind over Matter**_

* * *

 **Unknown POV**

 **26** **th** **of May, 2012**

 **Somewhere on the outskirts of Minneapolis**

"Alright, we have a confirmation on the target's location. It's a small inn on the edge of the residential district, so orders from higher up are to treat this as a spook op: we go in quick, we go in _quiet_. Use the special issue equipment first, resort to regular firearms in life or death situations only. The first fucker that jumps the gun and makes a sound louder than a mouse's fart will get kicked straight back to bootcamp for remedial lessons in stealth, am I understood?"

After receiving a chorus of "yes sirs!" the squad leader turned back towards the front of the van they were hiding in, ignoring his subordinates as he thought about the upcoming confrontation. It had taken them several tries (and liberal use of existing S.H.I.E.L.D. networks and operations) in order to track down their target, a process not made easier by the scrutiny that their cover was under and the return of Peggy fucking Carter (which was said so often, it was almost her official name amongst their people), but they had finally managed to get a bead on the woman.

While they had certainly pushed their anonymity to its limits in hounding the target as thoroughly as they had, their boss had thought the risk more than worth it.

The moment Whitehall was made aware of Jessica Jones leaving the protection of Othrys, was the moment that Hydra would acquire the woman for its own needs.

As the inn slowly came into view after the van turned a corner, the squad leader reassured himself that, no matter how powerful their target, Hydra _would_ get what it desired. He would make _sure_ of it.

Turning back towards the other Hydra-agents in the van (a total of eight men and women, all clad in unassuming clothes and equipped with silenced tranq-guns and teargas grenades) the squad leader was pleased to find only determined faces and professional attitudes. Working for the glory of Hydra, thumbing their nose at their greatest enemy day by day by merely existing within their ranks, had the unfortunate tendency to make the youngest amongst them more arrogant than was appreciated (not that the arrogance was misplaced, they were _Hydra_ after all, but it pays to fly under the radar when you're living with your nemesis). However, these agents were hardened, both from their Hydra training and S.H.I.E.L.D. careers.

They would deal with this in a mature and professional way, of that their leader could be assured.

He was drawn from his musings (though of course he had kept part of his attention focused on his surroundings at all times, as any spy ought to) when the van came to a halt on the parking lot of the small inn Jessica Jones (and sister, apparently, but at the moment she was of no concern to them) had taken their residence.

With a few simple hand gestures, and without a whisper of a sound, the team of Hydra agents filed out of the van and ghosted up to the second floor, easily making their way to Miss Jones' room unseen. They quickly stacked up next to the door, giving each other quick furtive glances as they waited on the signal from their leader.

Suppressing the thrill of excitement than ran through him with an ease born from decades of practice, the squad leader tightened his grip around his tranq –gun. The sedatives inside were experimental, an enhanced version of the heavier stuff in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s (and therefore Hydra's) arsenal, and was supposed to knock out an elephant within half a minute.

 _Supposed_ to.

He had faith in the scientists that came up with the stuff, but in combat, half a minute could feel like an eternity.

And Miss Jones was a _hell_ of a lot more dangerous than an elephant.

Still, Whitehall had given his orders, and he would see them fulfilled, even with his dying breath.

So, after taking another deep breath in order to center himself, the squad leader gave a sharp nod, muscles tensed. The moment his head fell, the agents at the front started working on the simple lock of the door, which didn't even last a full twenty seconds. When the lock sprung open, they pushed open the door, their colleagues behind them immediately breaching the room, guns at the ready. They ghosted through the hallway and adjacent rooms at incredible speed, making their way towards the small living room.

Seeing a curtain of dark hair peek out from around the large lounge chair, the team of Hydra agents didn't even hesitate. Fanning out in order to avoid friendly fire, they all unleashed their sedatives as one, some of them even aiming _through_ the back of the chair.

For a moment, the only sound in the cramped room was the hurried breathing of the Hydra agents, all of them poised for a possible counter-attack. The sheer amount of sedative they just pumped in the woman should have been sufficient to, if not knock her out completely, at least reduce her threat-level to manageable levels.

The entire squad couldn't quite contain a relieved slumping of their posture when the figure in the chair sagged in on itself, a deep sigh coming from Miss Jones as she quickly lost consciousness, though of course they were far too experienced to simply let their guard down completely.

Cautiously moving forwards, gun still at the ready and with his entire body poised to jump into action at the slightest hint of danger, the squad leader moved forwards, peering around the side of the chair at the woman that sat there, appearing dead to the world.

For a long moment, the Hydra leader simply stared at her, keeping an eye on the steady rise and fall of Miss Jones' chest and any possible fluttering behind her eyes. Only once he was absolutely, completely, _definitely_ sure that the woman was in fact unconscious (without any apparent complications from the massive amounts of sedative that had been pumped into her) did he signal to the rest of the team to start securing the target and prepping their escape route.

They still hadn't spoken a single word to one another, and the only sound that had been made during this entire operation had been the soft hisses of their suppressed guns.

Grabbing heavy duty shackles from the inside of his windbreaker, which were designed to hold a being of Miss Jones capabilities (made out of tungsten and hastily reverse-engineered Chitauri and Destroyer technology), the squad leader carefully approached the knocked out woman.

While he would trust these manacles to hold most beings on the planet, he wasn't entirely sure if the superwoman in front of him could be counted amongst them. Hence why he was planning on using every single shackle in their possession, and keeping the woman sedated until they returned to base and managed to throw her into the most secure cell they had.

Moving quickly, he grabbed the woman by her slim wrist and made to clamp the shackle around it…

… when his brain registered that something was very, _very_ wrong. He was looking at a slim woman's wrist, and yet he could feel something much larger and solid in his hand.

The sheer discrepancy was enough to halt his trained reflexes for the barest of moments, but even that would turn out to be fatal. Quicker that his eyes could see, there was a twisting underneath his hand, and he could feel something grab his own arm with enough strength that his bones immediately cried out in protest.

There was a brief shimmer over Miss Jones' form, before it broke away, like static that suddenly cleared, or a video that jumped to HD quality. And instead of the woman they had been chasing all over the country for the past two weeks, the Hydra agent found himself looking at a man in the prime of his life, who had a small smile on his face.

"We really need to stop meeting like this. That's the second time now that I have a secret rendezvous with you spooks in some random little inn. People are going to talk you know." Jim Harper, Head of Security of Othrys, smiled down at the ashen-faced Hydra leader in his grip.

Before his team could come to their leader's aid, three massive shapes seemed to melt out of the shadows behind them, going on a lighting fast attack that smashed bone as easily as a strongman might snap a toothpick. Within seconds, his elite team of Hydra-trained S.H.I.E.L.D. veterans were reduced to nothing more than groaning piles of broken bodies littering the floor, crippled at the hands of these… _demons_.

"Well. _You're_ going to talk, in any case. You're going to talk… a _lot_."

* * *

 **Michael POV**

 **26** **th** **of May, 2012**

 **Othrys**

"So, how's California treating you?" I asked the holographic projection on my desk, leaning back in my chair.

Jessica, now a blonde with green eyes and a rather chubby physique, smiled back at me.

"Well, the beaches are amazing, and the sun is doing Trish a lot of good. We do some sight-seeing occasionally, but most of the time we just lounge around and enjoy the weather and the food. And whenever we get tired of a place, we simply pack our stuff and move towards the next destination that seems like fun. I'm really glad we did this, Michael, Trish really needed this. I did too."

I give a smile back, finding myself genuinely pleased to see her so happy and lively. It has been a few years now that I have let myself become attached to people again, but actually feeling emotions for people that I have for so long merely considered to be fictional still tended to take me off guard occasionally.

"Alright, I gotta go, me and Trish are going to go to Universal Studios this afternoon, so hopefully that'll be fun. Trish really wanted to visit the theme-park, or whatever it's supposed to be, I just hope the fucking lines won't be too long." Jessica says with a grin, prompting one from me as well.

"Have fun you two. Stay safe."

"We will. Love you."

"Love you too."

And with another smile, Jessica cuts off the call. For a moment, I just sit there alone in my office, mulling over the last part of my exchange with Jess. It wasn't the first time we said the L-word to each other, but every time either one of us did it came as a shock to my system.

I had wanted to devote my life to the pursuit of power at any and all cost. I hadn't exactly gone out of my way to find love, and honestly, I hadn't expected to find it at all. The occasional fling at best, really, and even then it would've been inconsequential in the greater scheme of things. But this… loving a woman, becoming a father…

Was I growing soft?

Conceding that I probably was, I gave a sigh as I minimized the screen showing Jessica's position in Los Angeles (Phineas would be keeping a constant eye on her) and instead focused on the screen showing Harper's position in Minneapolis. A flick of my hand connected me to my Head of Security, and I only had to wait a few moments before Harper took the call.

Ignoring the way the walls were liberally painted red (was that a bit of intestine hanging from the ceiling fan?) I simply leaned forwards, pinning Harper with my burning gaze.

"I take it the trap worked?"

"It did sir. The holographic layer tricked them into breaching the premises just like Soter promised it would, though I still insist that the wig played a role in that as well." Harper calmly responded, absentmindedly toweling off his gore splattered arms.

"You manage to squeeze any information out of them?"

"I did sir. It was as you expected: Hydra, out to capture and retrieve Miss Jones. Decently sized team, well trained and well equipped. The tranquilizer and these advanced guns they were packing are powerful enough that it could've been a bit of a problem to deal with if I hadn't been clad in this new Spartan armor of yours. Good call there sir."

The Spartan armor was something that I had designed for my forces after the One Day War using the knowledge I gained from strip-mining the Chitauri corpses, and was a step up from the unbreakable leather armor that I sold to firefighters, police and the military. It basically amounted to the bare-bones version of my own armor, way back when I first recruited Sterns, with a few little extra's thrown in. Back then it had been thick Hammer-drone plating over a rough power-armored exoskeleton. The Spartan Armor, however, was made up out of thin, yet incredibly durable, smooth metal plating based off Chitauri-tech over a set of BlueBox powered servos, all connected by an Amber Armor leather suit. The Spartan armor had a dumb VI, which could link up with Phineas, allowing for smooth communication between me and my forces in the field. Each Spartan Armor also had special gauntlets somewhat similar to what Crossbones, Diamondback and the Shocker would end up wearing.

Despite the name, the regular issue Spartan Armor looked far more like generic Sci-Fi armor infantry grunts would wear than the iconic suit of the Master Chief, and while its defensive capabilities were through the roof it didn't offer much else (not that that was a problem, given the mountain of advanced weaponry currently in my basement), due to my forces already possessing superstrength, meaning that the increase from the Armor was marginal in most cases.

Of course, my _elite_ forces were better equipped, and as such, Harper and the Hysminai wore what was basically my Spartan Mark II armor. Sporting thicker plating, an actual exoskeleton instead of merely servos and a host of onboard weaponry (such as grenade- and missile launchers, coil guns, machine guns equipped with exotic ammo, just to name a few) the Spartan II armor was heavy enough that a baseline human would kill itself trying to wear it.

Instead, it turned Harper and his team into living tanks, appearing less like generic Sci-Fi soldiers and more along the likes of what Stark would have built had he been a massive Warhammer 40K fan.

I already had idea's for a Spartan Mark III armor in place, which would sport a bio-suit underlayer, but that was still being researched by Burstein and Hansen as a little side-project, so I put it out of my mind for now.

"Submit your report ASAP, I'll look through it and determine our next step. Anything urgent I should be made aware of right now?" I asked, my mind already turning towards the headache that was Hydra and how I would deal with them.

"Not exactly urgent, sir. But I think you should know that it was Whitehall, _again_. Apparently, he's not just an important player within Hydra's hierarchy, in so far as they have one, but he's also part of a faction within their ranks."

A faction? I knew that Hydra operated in semi-independent cells in order to better blend in within S.H.I.E.L.D.'s command structure, but I hadn't known that this manifested itself into actual factions within their group.

Different factions meant different opinions.

And different opinions meant that there was an opportunity to sow discord amongst their ranks.

"Do you know how many factions there are? Which one is Whitehall a part of?" I asked, intrigued.

"No hard number on the amount of factions, though by the sound of it, there are at least three major ones. I don't think even Hydra itself knows how many sub factions there are, given that some parts of Hydra are unaware of the existence of some of the others. Smart move on their part, annoying as hell for us. As for Whitehall, he appears to be the head of the faction that's focused on enhancing the human body, specifically through alien tech, though he'll try to experiment with anything he gets his hands on. It's not that the others mind, per se, it's more that they are more focused on other means of fucking up the world. The biggest push-back seems to come from those that have infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Government. You'll find the details in my report, sir."

"Very well. Scrub the room and get out of there. I want you back here, and the Hysminai ready to be deployed at a moment's notice. It's time me and Whitehall had one of your… _talks_." I say with a grin, my eyes lighting up the room.

Harper doesn't exactly smile, per se, but he stops toweling off the bit of viscera splattered across his pauldron in order to look back at me through the screen, the corner of his lips twitching upwards, while a gleam comes to his eyes.

"Very well, sir."

* * *

While it was annoying to find out Whitehall still had a hard-on for kidnapping my people (first Sterns, now Jess), in a way it was also rather convenient. With part of my Hysminai scouring the world for Gravitonium in order to _finally_ entice the stubborn Franklin Hall to come work for me (I swear, if Gravitonium wasn't so ridiculously powerful, I wouldn't even have bothered with the man to begin with, but my other scientists were currently too wrapped up in their own projects to make the sudden switch in discipline in order to properly study the exotic material as he could), and the rest tied up with Harper in leading whoever wanted to kidnap Jessica on a merry goose chase across the country, I had been fine with simply sending Carter to nip at Hydra's heels.

However, with Whitehall pissing me off, and Harper and part of the Hysminai now free to take on their next task, I decided on a different course of action. Oh, I would still send Carter out to harass Hydra as much as possible, but Whitehall was _mine_. As repulsive as the man was, his research was sheer fucking genius, and I needed that for myself.

Selvig had just yesterday finished building his massive Tesseract-powered generator, and was already building a far smaller one per my request. When asked how small I wanted it to be, I had simply said "small enough to fit in a truck". Due to now having far larger amounts of energy to safely work with, Foster had started to move on from merely theorizing to testing, leaning heavily on both Sterns' research as well as the alien knowledge Loki shoved inside Selvig's brain.

It wouldn't be too long until the Space Stone would be ready for use.

As for the Celestial flesh, Jeri had taken one look at the report that Burstein and Hansen had submitted and had immediately phoned the Russian Government. Deals were still being hammered out, but by the looks of it, within the next five years, Chernobyl and its surroundings would be completely scrubbed of harmful radiation.

After Burstein was finally convinced that I wouldn't be trying to incorporate the flesh into myself despite his warnings, the research on Ego's Seed slowed down a bit from the frantic pace it had been in ever since I had it dug out. It became more of a side-project as both Burstein and Hansen started applying their newly gained knowledge to their respective main interests.

Hansen was trying (and somewhat succeeding) in creating plants with a far more efficient version of photosynthesis. The only problem was that they were occasionally _too_ efficient, absorbing so much solar energy that they would heat up and explode in a ball of flames.

At least it gave me yet _another_ type of grenade to add to my arsenal.

Burstein had returned his gaze to the animal kingdom, looking at the amazing adaptations that could be found there and looking for ways that they could be put to human use. Already he had ideas to use the matter-replication ability of Ego's Seed in a way that would vastly increase the amount of meat that could be harvested from animals. It would not only make a dent in world hunger, but it would also allow the meat-industry to become less polluting, thus helping the planet.

However, due to the sheer difficulty of his ambitious project, it would likely take years before he managed to isolate and replicate the matter-producing capabilities of a Celestial, so instead he had been working on other projects as well.

The last I heard, he was now researching spiders.

This left the Mind Stone, and the Kree-technology. Radcliffe was finally convinced that conditions would be as controlled as they were going to get, and had conceded to Skye to undergoing Terrigenesis. At my urging, Radcliffe had looked into who amongst my forces also carried the Inhuman gene (the work of mere minutes with Phineas' help). As it turned out, only two did, a mother and her son, interestingly enough, family of one of the people that Toomes had sent my way back when I still worked out of that old tannery before the Hand's attack.

The child, of course, had immediately jumped at the opportunity to gain superpowers. His mother, rather predictably, had at first tried to put her foot down. However, after assuring her (multiple times) that the procedure would be both painless and harmless, as well as pointing out that _she_ gave the boy the Inhuman gene, whereas the boy's father was already superhuman (enhanced with Extremis, in fact) wore down her protests, until she finally relented and gave her permission.

It seems that living in Othrys for well over a year has worn down any instinctive aversion towards the superhuman she might have had by quite a bit.

She declined going through Terrigenesis herself though, which was somewhat annoying, but not exactly a setback. It would've meant more data for Radcliffe to work with, but between Skye and the child (Darryl, I recalled) we probably would have sufficient amounts of it anyways.

If not, I could always just find a bunch of Terrigen crystals and dump them in the ocean.

I was somewhat concerned with the fact that the only people in Othrys' employ that tested positive for the Inhuman gene were baseline humans however. Maybe the other enhancements messed with the DNA of the enhanced enough to remove the genetic markers. That still wouldn't mean that I couldn't give myself Inhuman powers, but if that turned out to be the case then I _really_ wanted Whitehall's research on how he had integrated parts of Skye's mother into his own body.

Putting the vile Nazi out of my mind, I swiped my hand across the wall next to a door to one of my labs, quickly striding inside. While the lab was spacious, it was surprisingly crowded. There were two gurneys in the middle of the room, surrounded by heavy machinery and people.

However, the thing that immediately caught the eye weren't the people or the heavy machines, but the thick pedestal in the center of the room, connected to a legion of cables and covered in a host of alien writing.

It had taken literal days for Radcliffe and a team to travel to the center of the city (using the map created by the drones beforehand), find the room where Skye and Raina originally would've undergone Terrigenesis, and then perform deep scans of the obelisk there until an exact replica could be fabricated.

Of course, merely rebuilding the physical structure wouldn't have been enough, but we had decoded enough of the writing to understand how the thing had been powered and how it interacted with the Diviners. Thankfully, the Diviners did most of the work, so all we needed to do was rebuild the entire obelisk and underlying power structure, calibrate it according to the Kree writings, and then just place a Diviner on top of it in order to start Terrigenesis.

On opposite sides of the squat pedestal were the two gurneys. Sitting on one bed was Skye, surrounded by Radcliffe and Agnes of course, as well as Darcy, the two young women having become close friends ever since Jane's assistant moved in. They had bonded rather quickly over computers, Tasers and being the only 'normal' people in the madhouse that was Othrys.

Of course, after today that would change. I was unsure how Darcy felt about that, but if the young woman decided that she wanted to be superhuman as well, I'd only give her the Erskine formula. I shudder to think what would happen if Darcy ends up enhanced with Amber Armor, or God forbid, _Extremis_.

On the other bed sat Darryl, a lithe boy of around ten or twelve. He was surrounded by his own parents, as well as a few others, either family or close friends. Darryl was nearly bouncing up and down on the gurney with a huge grin on his face, one which was matched by his father (who, judging by the heat that was coming off of him, couldn't quite contain his own excitement as well). In contrast, the mother and a few of the others looked rather worried, though that worry melted away once their eyes turned to look at me.

Clapping my hands in order to get everyone's attention (adding the slightest amounts of chi to it, making it sound like a cannon shot), I let out a huge grin.

"Everybody, I think it's time to begin. There's a viewing area in the adjacent room, if you would all move there? Phineas, please help Radcliffe with making the final preparations, then the two of us will remove ourselves as well and start the procedure. From what we can tell from Kree writings, the actual change itself will only take a short while, though their powers might take some time to manifest."

A soft murmuring went up as the people went to the next room, Darryl and Skye lying down on their gurneys. While Phineas did a final check of all the monitoring equipment, Radcliffe wheeled in a small tray, on which something was covered by a cloth. Placing it in-between the two beds, the scientist removed it in order to reveal the Diviner my Hysminai had brought back from their first field-test.

Getting the green light from Phineas (literally. The lines on the ceiling flashed green after his check-up was done) Radcliffe and I joined the others, looking at Skye and Darryl through the viewing screen, on which rolling texts of information were displayed.

"All systems are go, Michael. We are ready to begin the procedure." Radcliffe said, not quite able to contain the nervousness in his voice.

Ignoring it, I simply nodded, leaning forwards and pressing one of the haptic buttons at the bottom of the viewing screen.

"Alright Skye, reach out and place the Diviner on top of the pedestal please? It should open, like a mechanical flower almost. Crystals will form from the inside, and they will start the process. All of us are here, and Phineas has got multiple platforms at the ready, so there's no reason to be afraid. Proceed when you feel ready." My voice came over the speakers in the room.

I didn't want the Mist getting out and causing havoc, so from here on out we would be observing the strictest bio-hazard protocols me and my scientists could think of. From the start of Terrigenesis, until both Skye and Darryl had undergone thorough decontamination, Phineas' platforms would be the only things the two Inhumans would be in contact with.

Taking a deep breath, Skye reached out to hold the Diviner, the alien artefact lighting up with an orange glow at her touch, in an eerily similar way to the Berserker-staff whenever I wielded it. Looking from the glowing Kree device in her hand to the pedestal next to her, Skye placed the Diviner on top of it, her and Darryl (and everybody behind the viewing screen) holding their breath as they watched what would happen.

For a few moments, nothing did, until the Diviner split open across invisible seams, it sides falling away to reveal bunched up, deep blue crystals sitting clustered together. Almost immediately, the crystals started growing, and shortly thereafter, a billowing mist was released from them. The monitoring equipment showed both Darryl's and Skye's heartbeats spiking, but even before I could try to reassure the Inhumans, Skye started talking, calming the child down, even as her own heartbeat kept climbing.

Of course, when the rocky cocoon started to form around their bodies, both of them lost their composure (as well as most people in the viewing area), but my voice cut through the general noise, also being broadcasted into the Terrigen Room.

"Please, everybody, calm down. This process is completely natural, and poses no harm to them. The cocoon is meant to protect them while they awaken their genetic potential, and will crumble away on its own once the process has been completed, leaving no marks of ever being there at all. Again, I must ask you to remain calm." I thundered, though my voice kept a neutral, professional tone, and (somewhat reluctantly) the viewers settled down again.

At this point, the cocoon had formed over most of Darryl's and Skye's bodies, leaving only parts of their heads visible. Darryl appeared to be scared, but I could see that Skye kept telling him not to worry, reassuring him that everything would be fine, continuing even as the last of their bodies were covered in the rocky substance, both Inhumans now completely hidden from view.

For a moment, nobody spoke, the only sound being a few of Phineas' platforms stepping up to the Diviner, ready to close it and secure it the moment Terrigenesis had been completed.

"So… now what?" Radcliffe eventually asked, his eyes fixed on Skye's cocoon.

"Now, we wait." I dryly responded.

As it turned out, we only had to wait for about fifteen minutes before our measuring equipment noticed spikes of activity from the two motionless cocoons.

"Talk to me Holden, what's going on?"

"Well, Sky's cocoon is… humming? And Darryl's is heating up quite rapidly-"

"Yes, I can see that." I cut in as I leaned forwards.

The little cocoon that contained the Inhuman child had begun to glow, dully at first, but already parts of it were glowing red-hot. I was about to tell Phineas to engage the fire-suppressant protocols, when the cocoon just… _shattered_.

"Holy shit…" someone murmured (hell, it might have been me) and I couldn't agree more.

Because I was looking at the child-version of Johnny Storm, the Human Torch. Sitting on his gurney, looking around in a slightly confused manner, little Darryl was a silhouette of fire, burning so bright most people would have trouble looking at him. I saw him look over his arms, and expected to have to calm down a panicking child that was literally on fire-

"This. Is. So. _COOL_!"

Ah. Right. Kid plus fire equals excitement. Forgot about that.

Darryl's excited exclamation did a lot to calm people down, a few of them chuckling as the exuberant child now stood on the gurney looking himself over (completely ignoring the Phineas platform that was urging him to lie down so that he could give him a check-up), the child's mother smiling in clear relief.

I suppose when your husband is running a high-enough temperature to melt steel with his bare hands, seeing your child turn into a ball of flame isn't too far outside of your comfort zone.

My attention shifted from mini-Human Torch to Skye's cocoon. Readings were showing that instead of merely humming, the entire cocoon (and subsequently, the gurney it sat on, and even the floor itself) were now vibrating quite strongly, enough to see with the naked eye, in fact.

Compared to Darryl literally exploding his own cocoon, Skye's emergence from Terrigenesis was rather… tame, actually. Her cocoon simply crumpled away into nothingness, the young woman inside slumping over a bit. One of Phineas' platforms came over to her, but she waved him off, stating that she merely felt tired, but otherwise fine.

As both Inhumans finally acquiesced to a medical check-up, I told Phineas to start decontamination procedures, before turning towards a relieved looking Radcliffe (I could understand the sentiment; after watching Darryl turn into a living ball of flame, Skye's human appearance certainly was a welcome surprise).

"Holden, I trust you can take it from here. Once Phineas is done with decontamination, and Darryl and Skye have had a bit of rest in order to calm down, I want you to perform whatever test you can think of on them. It's imperative for both their safety and ours that we understand the exact nature of their powers as soon as possible. Forwards any findings, especially about their DNA, to me as soon as possible." I told him, waiting for his answering nod before moving away from the Terrigen Room, making my way towards the elevators.

Phineas was still combing through the cache of alien weaponry we now had (which steadily started to include more and more Kree tech as well, the more we decoded their language and discovered from their city) but he was already coming up with new things almost on a weekly basis. Aforementioned elevators, for example. By using the anti-grav tech taken from the Chitauri Sleds, Phineas had created elevators that were both faster, safer and offered a smoother ride.

Considering that the height of buildings these days wasn't so much confined by building materials (especially not now that I was introducing Burstein's highly durable versions of concrete, steel, plastics and glass to the market) but by the capabilities of elevators, and I was sitting on yet _another_ goldmine.

After all, what's the point of having a skyscraper with 300 floors when it takes a half-hour to actually get anywhere?

I was drawn from my musings after a few moments, a disgustingly cheery 'ding!' sound announcing that I had arrived (I hated the sound, Phineas insisted on leaving it in the designs, and Sterns had backed him up just to see me suffer I suspect).

It wasn't a written rule that I had in mind when I had Othrys built and furnished, but it just happened to turn out that, the more secretive and need-to-know the research (the Infinity Stones, Ego's Seed), the deeper the level the research was performed on.

Since people would be interacting with the now fully awakened Inhumans anyway, I hadn't bothered to put a high-level clearance on that part of the research, and as such I was only four floors down. Of course, once I start working with Whitehall's research the clearance level is going to go up rather sharply, and thus the research would be moved down by quite a few levels as well.

However, sub-level three was mostly open to many of my forces (though their families only had authorization to go down one level, and any unaffiliated people had no authorization to any of the levels at all). Here were some parts of the R&D that we did with other companies (such as everything involved with the creation of the PDF) as well as the testing area's for our weaponry, and the thing that I had come here for in the first place.

The Forge.

Basically the domain of Melvin Potter as he worked on producing more Amber and Spartan Armor, specialized tools and weaponry, and even some of the highly durable materials that Burstein had developed.

Today, he would be working on something special for me personally.

Walking into his wing of the level, my eyes roamed across the room. While everybody called it the Forge on account of three massive ones lining one of the far walls, with parts of the workshop looking like a modern-day smith's wet dream, it would be more accurate to call it a Foundry instead.

Massive high-tech machines were spread all over the massive wing, most of them automated to keep producing raw materials for Potter to use. People were working at a multitude of workbenches, either crafting large pieces, such as the leather parts for the Amber and Spartan Armors, or performing fine-tuning on whatever weapon my Think Tank had sent their way this time.

Looking past Potter's assistants, I saw the man himself at one of the enormous forges, hammering a white-hot glowing lump of metal into a long bar, before he folded it back in on itself, and began drawing it out again.

All with his bare hands.

Standing next to him, stood Elliot Randolph, the ex-Asgardian Berserker. The professor of Nordic Mythology stood bent over a workbench, a large drawing spread over it, studying it with a critical look. Across from Randolph stood Pangborn, my resident wizard leafing through a slim notebook as he occasionally looked up at the comments that Elliot was making.

"Ah, see here Mr. Potter? We heat-treated the blade at the wrong moment. I suggest that we lower the amount of folds and instead manually rub the blade with carbon as it is lying in the fire. I'm no blacksmith, but judging from these accounts, it should make for a sturdier metal that we can then work with. Here, let me show you." The diminutive man spoke with an excited grin, before he moved over to Melvin's anvil, the smith having stopped hammering and now peering intently at the Asgardian.

Without hesitation, the middle aged man clad in the stereotypical professor combo of shirt-sweater-jacket, reached out to the block of glowing metal, lengthened it with his bare hands, and then leaned into the kiln, his hands completely ignoring the flames as he took charcoal and started rubbing it across the blade.

If it hadn't been for the Amber Armor enhancement on his clothes, then they would've turned to ash in moments, probably leaving the out of shape Asgardian buck-naked in Potter's workshop. Thank God for Burstein's research, I suppose.

Clearing my throat, I grabbed the attention of the Asgardian, the wizard and the blacksmith, the three men looking at me with interest. It wasn't often that I went to the Forges personally, and this was the first time that I had asked Elliot to meet me here, though Pangborn had been here before in order to test his runework and enchancements.

"Hi there sir. What can we do for you?" Melvin spoke up with a smile.

"Gentlemen. I am here today, because there are three projects that I need your help with. One of them I require as soon as possible, the second should not take much longer than the first, but thankfully we have some time before the third needs to be finished. I wish to have you make me a helmet, a shield, and the blade of a scythe, in that order." I spoke up, seeing interest gleam in their eyes.

"Just the _blade_ of a scythe?" asked Pangborn, getting a grin from me.

"Indeed. After all, I already have a hilt, don't I?" I reply, giving Elliot a significant look.

It doesn't take the Asgardian long to cotton on.

"You wish to use my staff as a hilt to a scythe? Why? Why alter it in the first place, and why make a _scythe_ of all things?"

"Because I am _Hyperion_. And my weapon should reflect that. When Gaia wanted the Heavens, Uranus, overthrown, she gifted her youngest child with a weapon powerful enough to defeat him, the _Harpe_. When Uranus descended in order to lay with Gaia, me and my brothers held him down, while young Cronos castrated him. In turn, Cronos was overthrown by his son Zeus, and the _Harpe_ was amongst the multitude of weapons used to shred my youngest brother into a thousand pieces. When the Age of Heroes began, Zeus granted his own son, Perseus, the _Harpe_ in order to kill the Gorgon Medusa. Now that I am the New Titan of the East, it is only fitting that I regain a weapon of old." I stated solemnly, and I could feel that on _some_ level, _something_ strengthened as I laid claim to the legacy of Hyperion.

Judging by the sudden widening of Pangborn's eyes, it was definitely magical in nature.

"… Alright fine, as long as you don't go running around with my Staff in order to castrate people. Claiming a weapon based off of Odin's own is disrespectful enough, using it on genitals is just plain heresy." Elliot groused, though he couldn't quite hide his interest as he envisioned aiding in the creation of such a powerful weapon.

"The Berserker-staff is based off of Gungir?" I ask in surprise.

When I recruited Elliot we had spent hours and hours talking about Asgard, and yet almost every time the two of us had a conversation, he mentioned some interesting fact about the Nordic Gods that I had never known.

"Well, more on what he wielded _before_ Gungir. In his youth, when Bor was still alive, Odin wasn't the wise king that he likes to portray himself as. He was hotheaded, and _strong_ , monstrously so. He wielded a Staff as a weapon, though only because Bor refused to have the Prince of Asgard running rough-shod over the Nine Realms with a _Club_ of all things. Eventually, I think it was about 5000 or 6000 years ago, Odin got fed up with Bor's careful dealing with the mighty Surtur and took a host of his loyal warriors down to Muspelheim. He struck down Surtur, though he did not manage to kill him, but the price was high; Odin was the only one to make it back to Asgard. Bor told him that if he ever wished to remain on Asgard, he'd have to find the wisdom to lead as a ruler, instead of merely having the strength to charge in like a Berserker. So Odin wandered the Nine Realms, spent quite a long time on Earth, in fact. That's where your tales of him as an old wise man with a staff come from actually. Eventually, he got his head straight, and returned to Asgard to take his place as King. While he wouldn't throw away the sign of the glorious fights in his youth, he felt that a Berserker's Staff did not a King's weapon make, so he went to the Dwarves, and asked of them much the same as you now ask for us; to use the Staff as a base for a greater weapon. The Dwarves fashioned a spearhead to it, and laid powerful enchantments over it, and Gungir was born. And, much the same, we'll forge a scythe for it, enhance it to hell and back, and you'll have your _Harpe_ again." Elliot told me, his eyes distant as he recalled events millennia ago.

It was easy to forget, but sometimes I was reminded of the fact that the little man in front of me was older than every single person in Othrys… _combined_. As always, whenever Elliot reminisced about his time amongst the Asgardians, I gained a sudden insight into their motivations as I recalled from the movies.

No wonder Odin flipped his shit when Thor wanted to go rampaging on Jotunheim; it was a mirror to the follies of his own youth. Like father like son, eh?

"Thank you, Elliot. And no, I won't go around castrating people. I'll merely split them down the middle instead." I promise him solemnly, placing a massive hand on his shoulder, getting a smile from the Asgardian.

"Ah, thanks, that puts my mind at ease."

"Even so, you said that the helmet was first, right, followed by the shield?" Pangborn spoke up, getting a fervent nod from Melvin (who, during Elliot's little history lesson, had simply returned to the Forge in order to start molding the metal there with his bare hands).

"Correct. Phineas, could you show us the designs of Project: Armaments please?"

There's a blinking light from the workbench, before in a flash, a host of holographic models are hovering above it.

"I have certain specifications that I would like your second opinion on, regarding materials and design. The helmet shall be trickiest, as that shall be the one most crammed with technology, though I already have Phineas, Radcliffe and Sterns working on that. The biggest concern is energy containment." I say as I move the screens about as I talk, showing them what I mean.

The helmet is a sci-fi version of a Greek Hoplite Helmet, with a full faceplate and a visor instead of eyeholes, sporting stylized wings that rise from the sides, almost like a futuristic paladin or something. It will be stuffed to the brim with cutting edge technology, allowing for advanced communications, targeting systems, and a rebreather that would give me up to an hour either underwater or in the void of space. The shield is a kite-shield sized to my body-type, though with magnetic clamps instead of mere straps, and the inside will be capable of projecting holographic screens, including a feed from sensors hidden in the segments on the front of the shield (meaning that I can hunker down behind it without losing vision of my enemy). The magnetic clamps mean that I will be able to literally stick it to my back whenever I don't need it and due to being segmented it's capable of folding in on itself a bit, much like the weapons in the Mass Effect games. Both the helmet and the shield will be reinforced with Amber Armor leather, and spelled with general strengthening rune-schemes, both the ones that Pangborn was taught in Kamar-Taj as well as the ones that Elliot remembers from his time in Asgard.

The shield will also sport additional spells focused on strengthening, protection and absorption of attacks, whereas the helmet will be covered in spells aimed at increasing mental fortitude. Should the magical knowledge of Pangborn and Elliot prove to be insufficient to layer such enhancements on the objects, then Hansen, Sterns and I will use our knowledge of _how_ magic works to invent the spells we need, though due to how experimental they will end up being, they might turn out somewhat underpowered.

In contrast, the scythe will be much easier to make, since there are no moving parts or electronics to worry about; in the end, it's merely a single large piece of curved, extremely sharp metal, tapering to a wicked point. The base of the blade will be a ring which will be slotted over the top of the Berserker-staff. In order to ensure that it will remain there and not go flying whenever I swing my weapon, we'll shrink the blade (and thus the ring) by the tiniest margins using Cross Technology, until it will be impossible to remove the blade without breaking the Staff.

All three items would be made out of a Vibranium-Chitauri alloy, which would nearly deplete the entirety of the stock of Vibranium that I had stolen from Klaue. But it was necessary in order to contain the energies that they would have to withstand. They all had circular indentations: the helmet right on the forehead, the shield in the upper middle and the scythe near the base.

Melvin didn't care to ask about them, he simply wanted to get started right away. Pangborn, I could tell, was curious, but ultimately decided it was none of his business and ignored the issue. Elliot, however, gave me a long, searching look, before he too decided not to press me on it, though of all the people inside Othrys, he was probably one of the mere handful that had an idea of what I intended to place in those slots.

Because the scythe was the easiest to make, due to it lacking any moving or electronic parts, Melvin convinced me to start with that one, instead of the helmet as I had proposed. I acquiesced, mainly due to another trick that I wanted to use in order to enhance the materials even further: I was going to pump the raw metals full of my Chi, and use Chi-fire in order to forge the objects. The quenching would not happen with merely oil as was usually the case, but in the same kind of suspension that we used to give people and armor the Amber enhancement.

After nearly emptying all of my reserves in the stack of Vibranium that would be my _Harpe_ , I handed it over to Melvin and Elliot, who got to work in shaping the blade, with Pangborn fueling the flames. It would take them a day or two to finish hammering the blade into shape, grinding it and enhancing it before affixing it to the Berserker-Staff, so in the meantime I started on my own preparations for the helmet.

Which saw me back in my personal labs, Loki's staff in front of me.

I would place the Mind Stone in the helmet, and wield it without (hopefully) blowing up my own head. The major problem that I foresaw wasn't the power-issue though. If Ronan, an elite Kree warrior, was capable of holding the bare Power Stone long enough in order to transfer it to his hammer, and the subsequently wield that hammer in order to wipe out planets, then I was fairly certain that I could wield a single Stone in a container as well.

No, the _real_ issue was that I feared the Stone subverting my mind. The Staff had already egged me on without me even knowing it back when Jessica and Sterns came to question me anticipating an alien invasion of all things, what would the Mind Stone do once I actually tried to wield the damned thing?

Ultron was born from the Staff and was pretty much insane. Yet Vision was born of Ultron's mind combined with the Mind Stone, and he became an Avenger, worthy enough to wield Mjolnir only minutes after being born. I was hoping that the Vibranium played a role, since if it did, then it should offer me some protection from the energy of the Infinity Stone, but I wasn't counting on it.

Instead, I had a whole wall full of screens showing exercises in meditation, mindfulness, yoga and tai-chi and just about every New Age holistic crap you could think of that dealt with clearing and fortifying the mind. Since people got superpowers form eating leaves in this universe, I'm ruling nothing out. I even got some texts that I believe are from K'un-Lun.

But the most important piece was the enormous amounts of data came from the research of Kilgrave's parents, the Thompsons, who were still confined to the residential area inside Othrys, and who were still unaware that Jessica had killed their psychotic son.

When Kilgrave's deeds became known to the residents of Othrys, as well as the fact that Albert and Louise had basically tortured their son from the day he was born, turning him into the slime that he had become, the two scientists became ostracized.

Nobody lifted a hand against them, but nobody talked to them either, except when _absolutely_ necessary, and parents warned their children away from them. Faced with such isolation, the couple had thrown themselves into their work with a zeal that would be worrying if I actually gave a shit about their well-being.

As it was, they knew more about the human brain than just almost anyone outside of Othrys, but more importantly, they knew more about the human _mind_ than those inside of Othrys as well (except maybe for Sterns. God knows just how smart my friend has made himself over the years).

I was going to use their research in order to fortify my mind to hell and back, and to make sure that there was no chance of me ever being influenced by an outside source, either overt of subtle, ever again. Using their notes, Phineas would keep a continuous eye on both my brain activity as well as my entire body, and would know the moment I was compromised. Which was why his Soter platform was here as well; it wouldn't stop me, but it should be strong enough to remove the Mind Stone from my possession long enough for me to come to my senses.

I hope.

"Right. Best get on with this. It won't be long until Pangborn, Melvin and Elliot will be finished crafting the shield and helmet, and I need to get this down pat beforehand." I said aloud, more in order to psych myself rather than to inform Phineas.

Now, first order of business…

My hand lights up with Chi and Extremis heat, the shimmering molten glow a comforting presence. And in a single smooth movement, I grab the blue gem behind the scepter's blade and rip it off completely. I only look at it for a moment, before I crush it in my hand, immediately turning it over my desk, allowing the shards to fall to the workbench.

As well as a small brightly glowing Stone, its yellow light immediately drawing the eye towards it. Looking at the positively tiny piece of primordial force lying on my desk (it's about the size of my knuckles) I can't help but give a wry chuckle.

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing. Such a little thing." I softly quote, before shaking myself.

I've got a job to do.

Taking a seat in front of the Mind Stone, I close my eyes, my mind flashing to all the instructional pamphlets, video's and the Thompson's research as I try and sink deep into my own mind. The practice reminds me of that point of focus that I tried to (and eventually _did_ ) achieve back when I tried to fly for the first time.

Then I had been out in the open, the snow beneath my feet, the wind on my skin and the sound of wildlife in my ears to distract me. Not to mention my own mind. It was like someone telling you to _not_ think of a pink elephant, which would immediately cause you to picture it. But instead of merely trying to _not_ think of a pink elephant, you were simultaneously juggling a bunch of angry cats, seated on a rusty unicycle, on a fraying tightrope, suspended above a gaping canyon, with spikes and hungry tigers at the bottom. Oh, and you were also on fire the whole time.

Yeah, needless to say, it took me _hours_ before my mind finally started to empty, like a rippling pool that eventually becomes still and mirror-like. Once I had regained that clarity of mental focus that I had achieved when I had been trying to fly, I started fortifying my mind.

There were a _lot_ of different theories out there, like the classic Occlumency (an actual skill amongst wizards, Pangborn told me, though they just called it proper mediation instead) which involved misdirection by suppressing only parts of the mind and emotions, and shoving others forwards which you _wanted_ the other party to see. There was your standard Sherlockian Mind-Palace, though that was not so much for defense as it was for ordering one's one mind. And then there were the more out-there methods, scrounged from whatever source I could find (one of them advocating taking drugs like LSD or meth, thus sending any mental intruders on an acid trip as well).

Me? I simply did _all_ of them (minus the ones that required drugs and the like). Connecting my mind to my body through breathing exercises brought my rational mind in contact with that animalistic Dark Side of me which I had fused with during Bast's trials. I briefly thought to employ it as a Guardian in my defense system, but I quickly realized that, as an avatar of my baser instincts and emotions, forcing that part of me into a rigid plan created by the rational part of my being would be counterproductive. Instead, it would be free to roam the entirety of my Mindscape at will.

It would come to my aid should we be threatened, of that I had no doubt.

Leaving the manifestation of my body be, I continued erecting the defenses of my mind. I began creating a Mind Palace in the shape of Othrys, layering Othrys in-built defenses with "spells" and filling the inside with mazes and traps, and then selecting a whole load of "junk" memories to surround the core of what made me _me_. It was in the process of this, my mind connected to my body through Chi and using Magic to fortify my mind, that I once again felt a connection to my soul.

Like in the Astral Plane, it was _weird_ and had a feeling of weight and size that were frankly impossible. So naturally, I pulled on it, enveloping the structures that I had built inside of my mind with it, using the ethereal energy that I could just barely feel beyond the reach of my mental fingertips in order to suffuse that core-concept of _me_.

If it weren't for the Brain Booster of my weird-ass reincarnated soul, this would quite frankly be impossible.

Even after all of this, which felt like it took entire _days_ to create, I didn't stop. I kept adding layers, I kept strengthening the bond between my body, my mind and my soul (coming up with some _interesting_ theories about Chi, Magic and the difference between the two, mostly based on my memories of anime that I had watched) and I kept on fortifying my Mindscape.

It was after what felt like a week that I started noticing light impressions on the edge of my mind. I was curious, but cautious, and for the first two days since I noticed them, I instead focused on clearing and strengthening my own mind instead.

On the third day, the impressions got strong enough that I could see them for what they were: the minds of other people. They were like tiny flickering candles, something that I registered not with sight or with touch or by sound, but all three and yet none of them at once. Gaining a sixth (or is it seventh by now, considering my Chi and Herb enhanced senses of myself and my surroundings?) sense was something that's difficult to put into words designed around merely five.

I couldn't read their thoughts, though when I sort of 'leaned' against them there were impressions coming through, mostly smells, interestingly enough. Often there would be snippets of sound or emotions as well, and only a handful of times did I actually get any visuals, but they were brief and didn't make a lot of sense.

Then again, while certainly interesting, the flickering candles representing the consciousness of the others inside Othrys wasn't exactly my main concern right now, since two other things had caught my attention. One was a sort of general warmth that I felt surrounding both my own mind and those of the other Othrys inhabitants. It was a field that spread out vast from a single point, not projecting like I was doing, but linked, like appendages or skin. It took me a while to realize that the bright spotlight I was looking at was Phineas' artificial brain, the field permeating through Othrys his systems.

But there was one other thing that caught my attention as well. My fellow Othrys occupants appeared like metaphorical candles to my mind's eye, whereas Phineas appeared like those massive heavy duty flashlights that looked like a brick.

But the thing I was looking at… it was as if I was staring at the sun from mere feet away. It's sheer size, as well as the sense of _age_ that I got from it defied all logic and understanding, and I felt my mind start to hurt when I stared at it for too long.

But after the pain faded, I tried again, more cautiously this time, not trying to peer directly into it, but sidling up to it instead, feeling waves of warmth wash over me much like the ebb and flow of the sea. The moment the first wave touched my mental self, I recoiled and immediately fled to the inner sanctum of my own mind, tightening my defenses around me until I couldn't feel the others inside Othrys, or Phineas, or the bright sun anymore.

Once I was sure that I wasn't about to be swept away at any moment, I crept out of my shell and once more approached the enormous ball of light on the edges of my senses. Again the wave of warmth washed over me as I sidled up against it, but this time I had made sure that there was a strong tether between me and my Mind Palace, and my defenses were all primed. Slowly but surely, I was starting to get used to the ebb and flow emanating from the sun, and the more time I spent in its presence, the stronger my own mind became. I could feel my fortress becoming more durable, and I could examine the consciousness of the other people inside Othrys more clearly.

Still no concrete thoughts, but the impressions I got were far clearer now, almost always including vision that I could understand and interpret. Casting out my mind and standing in the ebb and flow of the sun was strengthening my mental capabilities, much like working out would strengthen a muscle. I spent nearly a month on the edge of my thoughts there, leaning against the sun as my mind became stronger and stronger, day by day.

Sometime during that month, I had fallen into deep rhythm, the constant focus on my own thoughts as well as those of others, combined with an ever-present silence placing me in a deep medative state (my physical aspect didn't exactly talk much. Or at all, really). However, I was drawn from this zen-like state of being when a bright light, like those used in stadiums and the like, quickly approached me. Intrigued, my attention flowed towards the newcomer, my mind touching his. It didn't come as a surprise really to find that this massive amount of mental energy belonged to Sterns, but his emotions and thoughts were colored by worry.

Frowning, I first pulled myself out of the meditation I had fallen in, and then actively retreated out of the depths of my own mind, tiredly opening my actual eyes for what felt like the first time in almost two months.

Why hadn't Phineas woken me?

As the question rang through my mind, the doors to my lab hissed open, allowing Sterns to step inside. As I had gleaned from his mind, worry was clearly written on his face, his expression changing to one of shock as he looked up at me, coming to a complete halt. "Michael? Michael, are you alright?" he hesitantly asked.

"I feel fine, Sam. A bit tired. How long was I out for?" I replied slowly, my mind still booting up again after having spent so much time in meditation.

"Eleven days, Michael." Sterns replied, and the worry came back stronger now than before.

I frown at his answer. Sure, it was nice to find out I hadn't wasted entire months as I had feared, but the sheer discrepancy in time was worrisome. As well as the fact that I had apparently been mediating for eleven days straight, without food or water or bathroom breaks.

Whether that was a result of my biology or the meditation was unclear, but I wasn't eager to try it again any time soon.

"Why didn't Phineas wake me?" I ask, Sterns eyes flitting across the room before resting on me again.

"Because you didn't exceed the parameters that the Thompson research put forwards more than once, and even then it was gone so fast that it had hardly even been there. Of course, we immediately put you in solitary, but you didn't come out of your meditation. We thought you were trapped in your own mind by the object in Loki's Scepter, but your vitals remained steady and you still answered the safety checks. Of course, this just made us even _more_ worried, but we honestly didn't know what else to do." Sterns explained, Phineas' Soter platform moving into view to stand beside the eggheaded scientist.

The combat platform didn't have any muscles to tense, but I could still tell that Phineas had it primed in order to jump to Sterns' defense at any moment.

"I see. Eleven days huh? Damn. Where is the Stone now?"

"Well, seeing what it did to you, none of us were exactly keen to touch it, so Soter here put it in a secure lock-box, which we hid in the Vault." Sterns told me, referring to the Vault in Othrys where I stored the items that were either too dangerous to leave in the Armory or that needed to be kept a secret from everyone. The only ones with access were me, Sterns and Phineas. Harper could access it too, but he would first have to notify either one of us three before he was allowed to open it.

"Good call. Missing eleven days is unfortunate, but it wasn't without benefits. I should be able to resist it now, especially if the projects I gave everyone have been completed. Where are we on that front?" I ask Sterns as I walk out of my lab, hearing his footsteps quickly following me, while the Soter platform stomps of the charging station where Phineas keeps the bodies he isn't currently using.

Even as we're walking, I can still feel Sterns mind like a presence pressing against my newly awakened senses, slight impressions and emotions coming through.

"Well, Selvig finished his smaller Tesseract containment unit. These past few days he and I have worked on placing it in Oliver; it now functions as his new engine and _boy_ is it working like a dream! The power-output is insane, it dwarfs everything the Blue Box is capable of and the supply is virtually unlimited as far as we can tell! Oh, the things that Oliver can do now…"

"Sam? Sam! Please stop daydreaming about your truck if you could? What about the rest?" I ask, snapping my fingers in front of Sterns' face, drawing him from his reverie as he thinks about his worryingly souped up vehicle.

Sterns armed with the Tesseract and Arnim Zola's original research notes…

The universe was fucked.

"Oh, right! Well, Jane pretty much completed her theory about using the Tesseract in order to interact with Space-Time. Of course, the research of yours truly helped enormously with that, but we should be able to traverse space at FTL-speeds now. The next steps are abusing space even further for our own ends, so taking the inside-is-bigger-than-the-outside principle my "pocket dimension" operates on and actually anchoring it to structures, instead of merely pointing a Sonic Screwdriver at the air and causing a disturbance there. And, of course, Jane is working on creating our own Bifrost, though that process may end up taking a while."

I smiled at the news. With Jane's research implemented, and the Tesseract plugged into a vehicle, it would seem that I now finally have a way off this planet.

"Good, good. And the others?"

"Noah and Maya are still working on their own projects, though Maya has _finally_ managed to stop her plants from exploding. Noah has been banned from working on spiders for a week after the one he had been experimenting on mutated to grow ten feet tall. At least Susan appeared to enjoy the snack. Holden has been looking through whatever records he can get his hands on, trying to find the same Inhuman gene-markers that Sky, Darryl and his mother have. It's a bit of a hit and miss for now, since some data isn't made available to the general public. Not that he lets that stop him mind you, but it certainly slows down his working speed, especially since he has begun reverse engineering the Kree-technology that we've been able to get from their City. As for the Inhumans themselves, Skye and Darryl are physically fine. Darryl is running around Othrys, on fire more often than not, and demands that people call him Flame Boy now."

I almost pause in my tracks, giving Sterns a raised eyebrow.

"Flame Boy? Really?"

Sterns merely shrugs.

"Kids, what are you gonna do? Anyways, he's perfectly healthy. As for powers, we've managed to scan beyond his flames to discover that he retains his physical body instead of being turned into a mass of flames, but that his body is in fact continuously immolating itself. How this doesn't kill him we don't know yet, but we suspect that it goes beyond merely setting himself on fire."

"Pyrokenesis?"

"Exactly. Judging from the control he has over his flames, we suspect he may be able to project, redirect and absorb fire. He might even grow powerful enough to fly that way."

He probably would, if his powers are truly similar to the Human Torch.

"As for Skye, well, she's basically living Vibranium."

That does halt me in my tracks, as I turn to fully gaze at Sterns.

"What? _Living_ Vibranium?"

"Not _literally_ , of course! She's still flesh and blood, it's just that her powers make her take on the same properties as Vibranium. She's capable of absorbing and releasing energy, down to minute vibrations in the air, and even in objects! Gave her quite the scare when her power absorbed incoming soundwaves, essentially turning the air around her into a perfect sensory deprivation tank. Holden just hugged her, providing her with sensory contact until her power subsided, returning her hearing to her. We did a simple test where we told her to clap her hands multiple times, but to try and absorb all impact from her hands meeting. The result was that there was a dull flapping noise whenever she clapped, and she told us she didn't really feel any significant impact. Then we told her to slap a punching bag and she tore it clean from its hinges!" Sterns says with an exited grin, prompting a considering hum from me.

Was this a different power than her original Quake power, or was this merely a variation on it, her Inhuman abilities slightly changed due to the different surroundings but in essence still the same?

Something worth looking into, I suppose.

"The Hysminai?" I asked, and Sterns immediately cottoned on, being one of the very few outside of me, Harper and Phineas that knew about my plan to kidnap Whitehall.

"Closing the noose, but they haven't made a move yet. Apparently, Whitehall's in some kind of fortress, and while they _could_ breach it, Harper wants the Hysminai as much off the radar as possible. So they're lying in wait for now, looking for an opportunity to grab Whitehall in transit. They should have him any day now. As for the ones that you sent out to obtain Gravitonium, the first one has returned. However, back-tracking revealed that she massacred an entire research camp in order to obtain it, so it's too hot for now to use as bait for Dr. Hall. One of the others was doing pretty well in Asia, but they changed sites and he's now dormant, awaiting further instructions."

I frowned at the mix of good news and bad news. While it would've been nice to have Whitehall here already, I was currently far too busy to deal with him (not to mention, I was still somewhat groggy from my eleven-day long meditation spree) and I really didn't want to have a man like Whitehall inside my base for too long before I disposed of him.

The man would spell trouble if left alive for too long, I just knew it.

As for the failure of the Hysminai in retrieving the Gravitionium, it was unfortunate, but not unexpected. They were blunt instruments; _extremely_ good at killing, but after my enslavement of them, honestly not much else.

"Fine. Have the Hysminai that returned take enough down-time to rest and resupply, then send her out in the field under a Jessica disguise. Whitehall isn't the only one who would benefit from capturing her, so it's best to keep the ruse up for as long as possible. The one in Asia isn't in any danger of being discovered?"

At Sterns' affirming nod, I continued.

"Good. Leave him there, for now. Once Harper and his team have secured Whitehall and that butcher is in my cells, I'll deploy Harper to reactivate the dormant Hysminai. If any further actions need to be taken, we'll deal with them as they come. How far along are Pangborn, Randolph and Potter in creating the items that I requested?"

"Finished just this morning, actually."

"Finished? How? We all agreed that we would get the best results if I added my Chi to the metal and the crafting process?"

"Well, that wasn't exactly difficult to do; you were practically glowing with Chi during the entire time that you were unresponsive. It's part of the reason you're feeling so tired, apart from the whole fasting thing of course, but then again we've long since speculated that you can go for longer times between sustenance than humans when needed, despite your higher calorie intake."

"So… what? Did they just rub Vibranium over me? Throw my ass into the Forge or something?"

"Kinda? They stacked the Vibranium in your lap, and over time it became saturated with your energy. Then they took the energized Vibranium to the forge, which was stoked by both Pangborn and Susan. Had to shrink her in order to get her all the way down there, and we're almost through our supply of treats, but she dutifully kept the fire burning when asked to. Once the helmet was finished, Holden, Phineas and I placed the electronics inside and fired her up, so she's all good to go. Power is supplied by miniature Blue Boxes, which look like gems next to the slot in the middle of the forehead."

I couldn't help but let out a massive grin, changing my course from the Vault to the Forges.

"Excellent."

* * *

"Ah, Michael, good to see you back on your feet! We were getting a bit worried about you there, you know?"

"Thanks for the concern Elliot, but honestly, I'm fine. A bit tired, but it's nothing that a good meal and some shut-eye won't fix. No, I'm _far_ more interested in the end-result of your combined efforts!" I say with a reassuring grin, standing across from Elliot and Pangborn, while Melvin is bent over the Forge (he gave a cheery wave when he saw me enter, almost splattering Pangborn with flecks of molten metal).

"Alright then! Now, since we enlisted the help of… well, just about everybody on this floor, really, we were quite a bit ahead of schedule, and as such, we have also gone over your armor. If you'll follow me please?" Elliot says with an exited grin, leading me over to where something as tall as me is hidden under a white cloth.

"Now, your previous armor was certainly nothing to scoff at, but it was certainly… utilitarian in appearance. Thick and blocky and bulky, so we turned it into… well, to be honest, it's still thick and bulky, but it's a whole lot less blocky and it certainly isn't that boring dark grey you flew around in!"

"Elliot, while I appreciate the sentiment, I really just wanted you to create the items I asked for. I know that the armor isn't exactly the nicest looking, but I don't care, as long as it works-" I try to interject, but I'm halted by the Asgardian warrior wagging his finger and cutting me off.

"Hush, hush! Choosing function above form is all well and good, but wasn't it _you_ who wished to claim the legacy of Hyperion? You said it yourself; as a New Titan, it is only proper that you receive a weapon that reflects that status. Your armor should be no different! And as such, I am proud to present, a Pangborn, Potter and Randolph creation, with special thanks to Susan, the fire-breathing dinosaur…!"

Elliot trailed off dramatically, as he grabbed the cloth with both hands, removing it with a proud flourish, a massive grin on his face.

"The Aurelion Armor!" he roared, and despite my earlier objections, I couldn't quite control myself when I saw the Armor in all its glory.

"Oh _hell_ yes."

Remember how I said that the Spartan Mark II armor was something that a Warhammer 40k obsessed version of Tony Stark would create?

Yeah, I take that back.

The Spartan II armor was simply large, tough and sufficiently scary looking. However, they were also meant for my elite black-ops forces, and as such were colored in mute greys and blacks, and were completely unadorned.

The Aurelion Armor, on the other hand… Think something like the Legio Custodes, all shiny golden and with massive proportions, but assembled in a distinctly MCU fashion. It featured a heavy golden breastplate, with the logo of Titan Solutions stamped prominently in its center flanked by two wings and with rivets and folds all along the sides and stomach area. A thick neck guard sat on top, connecting the torso carapace to the large, gently arched pauldrons. It rose up higher at the back than at the front, ending near the top of where my skull would be. The pauldrons themselves were reminiscent of the classic Space Marine armor, but they were decorated with golden wings, matching the design of the helmet. It had thick arm guards (again decorated with wings, but only small ones) which clearly housed some of the on-board weaponry, as I could see multiple barrels extending a bit from the front of the plates. It didn't have gauntlets, since that would only get in the way of my Meteor Fist and the superheated Extremis knife hand I had used to relieve Klaue of an arm. The legs were less bulky, sitting smoothly over thick leather pants, with the shinguards and kneepads stamped with wings like my breastplate was. A glorious white cape with a golden trim fell to just below calf height, and a tabard hung to my knees from a thick belt with multiple compartments, the enormous buckle again stamped with the Titan Solutions logo.

The entire thing probably weighed about as much as an armored car, and as it stood before me, it's golden surfaces gleaming in the lights of the Forge, various parts of it glowing a pale blue (the logos and a few of the lines as well as the occasional gem-like structure which liberally studded my breastplate and pauldrons), it's pristine white cape and tabard slightly moving in tandem with the massive bellows…

I think I just fell in love.

Without further prompting from Elliot, I immediately began putting on the armor, aided by machinery created by Phineas, and Elliot himself. It was a matter of mere minutes to put everything on, and then Elliot continued his sales pitch, even as I stood there admiring myself in the mirror that Phineas created (basically just showing me a feed of myself from one of his many camera's).

"So, the Aurelion armor has 16 Blue Boxes inside it, most of them miniaturized. The weaponry on board is mostly energy based, since that saved on space, and is parts reverse-engineered Hydra weaponry, parts reverse-engineered Chitauri tech and parts just whatever monstrous concoction your resident mad scientists could come up with. Lasers, shockwave emitters, anti-grav guns, coil guns, you name it." Elliot said with a massive grin, which was mirrored by me as I stomped around, twisting and turning and admiring my shiny golden butt from every possible angle.

Floating upwards and making a few lazy loops showed that, despite its size, it only marginally impacted my maneuverability, and my sheer mass and durability with it on more than made up for the lost range in motion.

Descending back down again, I followed Elliot and Pangborn to another workbench, and this time Pangborn removed the cloth, though he was a lot more professional about it.

"The shield, much like your armor, is layered with enhancements which increase its durability, not to mention the Amber Armor treatment it received during quenching. As you requested, it is capable of folding in on itself and can be attached to your back through magnetic clamps. During durability tests, our kinetic weaponry barely even registered at all, and our energy weaponry only made it heat up, though nowhere near its structural limits. I honestly can think of only two or three items which are capable of consistently bypassing its defenses, and that's more due to their exotic effect rather than any fault of the shield itself." Pangborn explains as I lift it from the table.

While I can tell that it is fairly heavy, even for someone with superhuman strength, it isn't too cumbersome, as I'm still able to smoothly lift my arm and turn my body. Hunkering down behind it makes a holographic screen spring to life, showing me footage of what's on the other side of the field.

"Given how information dense your HUD is, we decided to leave that one on the shield itself, though if you want you can call it up in your helmet instead, of course. The VI that's running the OS in your Armor is capable of communicating with your equipment, and with me." Phineas speaks up from the nearest speaker, and I give a nod at his words, placing the shield on my back, watching with interest as seams split open, and the lower half folds in underneath the center, the two upper sides of the shield closing over it, essentially reducing it to only half its original size.

"Speaking about helmets, here it is." Elliot speaks up again, approaching me with a futuristic Greek helmet.

Placing it on my head, I'm greeted with darkness for only a moment before the HUD flares to life, showing me the outside world in perfect detail, as if I'm not even wearing anything at all. The Amber Armor leather skull-cap fits neatly over my bald scalp and is surprisingly comfortable. Before I can even ask for it, Phineas calls up a small image in my HUD showing me in full regalia, and I can't help but smile.

I looked the part of a Titan now.

Well, _almost_.

"And now, for the _piece de la resistance_ , your weapon, Lord Hyperion." Elliot said with a mock-bow, extending his hand towards the final workbench.

On it laid the _Harpe_ , and it looked _wicked_. The Berserker-staff was made out of an unnaturally smooth, dark grey metallic substance, with a flaring top end. Around the top, as a single smooth piece of metal, the scythe was wrapped. It was in proportion to the length of the Staff, meaning the curved blade was about as long as my entire arm.

Picking it up, I was surprised to see the familiar lines glowing across the Staff continuing smoothly across the blade as well. Turning towards Elliot and Pangborn, it was the wizard who answered my unasked question.

"While we couldn't break down the enchantments on the Staff to its basic components, we _were_ able to trace exact replica's on the scythe itself, as well as layer several enchantments for everlasting sharpness and an increased cutting edge on top of it. Since its Vibranium though, the added enchantments have a rather marginal effect."

Nodding at the wizard´s explanation, I gave a few experimental swings with the _Harpe_. I was by no means an expert on melee weaponry, though I had occasionally practiced with the Staff, as well as a couple of training swords. Nevertheless, I could immediately tell that (somehow) the scythe was perfectly balanced, as all things should be.

I gave it a twirl, my nimble fingers spinning the fearsome weapon around with ease, the blade of the scythe making a keening wail as it cut through the air as smooth as silk. That familiar burn of the Berserker-Staff was still there, quite prominently, in fact, but either due to having a stronger mind or a stronger connection to the baser instincts of my body I easily controlled it.

I still wanted to go out into the world and cut things to bits, but I was in control over when I would do so, and to whom I would apply the cutting.

A certain Nazi scientist came to mind…

Giving another twirl, this time turning my body with the swing, I swept the scythe in a broad horizontal arc, the sound of brutally displaced air music to my ears. Straightening from my stance, letting the butt of the Staff rest on the floor, I turned to give Elliot, Pangorn and Melvin a massive grin, even if they couldn't see it through my helmet.

"Gentlemen. This is truly amazing work that you have done here. Expect a big bonus in your accounts, and feel free to take the night off. You've earned some down-time after crafting this in merely eleven days, well done indeed."

As the Asgardian, the wizard and the blacksmith turned to each other with tired grins and exubarent high-fives, I grasped my _Harpe_ just below the blade, and stalked out of the Forge, nodding to the people that sat at their workbenches. Again, I could feel Sterns' massive mind close in on me, and I didn't need my enhanced hearing to know that he had fallen into step behind me.

Interestingly enough, while his mind was easy to spot, and Phineas' main core not exactly hard to pinpoint as well, the others that I had passed were far less bright to my senses. Again, the analogy of flickering candles came to mind, but now that I wasn't actively focusing on my mental power, most of them felt almost like the smoke that remained after you blow out the candle, wispy and intangible. Pangborn was another exception (thanks to his Astral Projection abilities, no doubt), though he didn't "shine" as bright as Phineas did. Elliot was also easier to spot with my new emerging senses, but mostly because of the sheer difference between his Asgardian mind and those of the others.

If the others were like candle smoke, then his mind was like stone, far more solid and unyielding, and not exactly made up out of the same stuff that the rest of the humans were. I very much doubted that, as I was now, I'd be capable to glean anything meaningful from his mind.

If my predictions were correct however, then that was about to change.

Sterns and I walked towards the Vault (located on the lowest level, alongside my personal labs) without saying a word, him lost in thought and me lost in examining my new Armor as I walked, marveling over the cutting edge technology stuffed inside of it and the sheer badass look of it.

It was a matter of minutes before we stood before the heavy door to my Vault. It _appeared_ like your regular massive circular door to any bank vault, but hidden in the walls, the ceiling and the door itself were advanced security measures, such as advanced codes which were encrypted using a cypher of Sterns' creation.

And of course, there were the traps. Non-lethal for those that _tried_ to breach the Vault, extremely lethal for those that appeared to actually be _succeeding_ in breaching the Vault.

I wasn't taking any chances.

It took well over half a minute before me and Sterns had passed all the security check (they were operated by a VI on an isolated mainframe, meaning that even Phineas couldn't simply unlock the door for us) and then we finally managed to stride inside.

The interior of my Vault was… well, to be honest, it was rather underwhelming compared to its imposing security measures. Just a simply, rather small room with a couple of shelves. Part of the lack of grandeur to what was supposed to be my treasure hoard was the fact that it was simply empty. I wasn't in the habit of leaving incriminating evidence behind, not even as a souvenir, so much of the stuff that I had stolen over the years had been destroyed, rather than kept here.

Ignoring the shelves that were mostly barren, I moved towards the end of the rows, where a squat little safe-deposit box sat. It was built to withstand even my strength (supposedly, not that we had actually gone full out in testing it) and could only be unlocked by the person that had locked it in the first place.

Without my prompting, Sterns stepped forwards, pressing his thumb to the lid of the box. After a few seconds, a little light on the side switched from red to green, and the top popped up. Immediately, the glow of the Mind Stone spilled out, easily filling the room despite its small size.

While the minds that I had touched upon while stuck in my trance were much harder to spot and connect with now that I was 'awake', it seemed that this wasn't the case with the Mind Stone. To my senses, it appeared just as much as the enormous glowing sun of warmth that I had seen with my mind's eye.

It would seem Sterns could feel it to, judging from the small frown on his face as he took a step back, his thoughts now leaning more towards caution.

I could understand the sentiment; simply approaching the Stone with my mind had pulled be in a trance that had lasted nearly two weeks. And what I was about to do would be step beyond simply studying it from afar.

Still, there was no going back. Things were picking up speed, plans set in motion and coming together, not to mention the fact that if I wished to be there for my child, I should be getting my ass into gear and achieve godhood before it would be born.

No, I had taken risks all my life in order to gain power. And the power that I could stand to gain from this far out shadowed the possible risk.

So, before Sterns could speak up or move to stop me, my hand lashed out, closed around the Mind Stone ( _fire_ and _pain_ and sheer fucking _power_ thundering up my arm, crashing into my heart, the feeling of an entire herd of wildebeests crashing around in my brain), before I slammed it into the slot on the forehead of my helmet.

And my world turned white.

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Stan Lee's favorite Marvel film cameo was based on one from the comics. He said that his appearance in Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer (2007) was inspired by the story of Reed and Sue Richards' wedding in Fantastic Four Annual Volume 1 #3, in which he and artist/writer Jack Kirby attempt to crash the ceremony but are thwarted. Stan has also revealed in his memoires that he has never been to a barber, but that his wife has given him his iconic look. Joanie was also the one who destroyed the original typewriter that he used to create the Fantastic Four and Spiderman during an argument. Stan Lee's comment about that was that it was a shame it happened before EBay: "Too bad. I could've auctioned off the parts and made a mint."

 **R.I.P. Stan Lee (1922-2018) –** I hope the world that you've gone to is as marvelous as the one that you have given us.

 **AN:** Sorry for getting this out a little later than promised. I was going to upload yesterday, but as I've mentioned before, I'm helping my parents move and my dad had packed the router, meaning that I was stuck without Wi-Fi. Also sorry about the cliffy, but this chapter was simply getting way to long, so I was forced to cut it here. No promises on when the next chapter comes out.

 _As awlays, major shout out to my amazing Patrons, Miu, justlovereadin, Carn Krauss, ReapeScythe, Thordur hrafn, Daniel Dorfman and Samuel Carson! I'd also like to give a warm welcome to Fakhrurrozi, welcome to the club! I cannot thank you guys enough for willing to support me as you do, so thanks again!_


	38. Mind Games

_**Mind games**_

* * *

I was… floating… I think?

What…

Where am I…

Who-

A sea of thought slams into me, washing over me, pulling me down and almost drowning me as memories flash before my eyes, snippets of places and conversations. Once comes close enough that I cling to it, desperately trying to not get rushed away, eroded like stone underneath the waves of the sea-

 _I look in the grimy broken little mirror in the hut that I'm staying in, gazing once again at my enlarged cranium. While the vast increase in my intelligence was most certainly welcome, and I did not exactly mind the new look, it cannot be denied that my current appearance… well, it might be something more at home in a horror movie to be honest._

 _Not that the opinion of others will change the way I feel about my looks, but it's nice to be surrounded by people who take the bulbous cranium in stride for once. Of course, being their witch doctor, they probably would've been willing to accept a lot more scary looking mutations if it gave them the medical care that I provided to them._

 _Ha! Wait till they first lay their eyes on Michael! Other than his size, he might not look too different from a baseline human at first glance, but one look at that ribcage or raised spine is enough to make one wonder if they're looking at some sort of monster or demon instead. Especially now that his eyes are glowing like that._

 _I hope he comes back soon. Worry is eating me up, and to get my mind off things I've begun to work on that truck that I stole. It's soothing, actually, especially when I start singing as well. I got a rather nice singing voice, even if I do say so myself, and it feels weirdly appropriate to sing old timer country songs in this rural stretch of desert land. I reckon my forefathers felt much the same when they were trekking through the frontier, hell, they might have even sung similar tunes to what I'm belting out right now. Still though, if my old professors could see me now, standing in a grease-stained, sweat-soaked shirt, wrench in hand!_

 _Michael better hurry and finish his business in Wakanda… I've been working in the sun for so long, I've even given the truck a name for crying out loud!_

… yes, yes I remember-

NO!

No, that isn't me… someone I know… someone close to me… but those aren't _my_ memories… right?

Where am I?

Who am I?

What's-

A sea of thought slams into me, washing over me, pulling me down and almost drowning me as memories flash before my eyes, snippets of places and conversations. The panic is all-consuming, but something inside me tells me that I can survive this, that I _need_ to survive this. The memories pressing the closest on my skin are the clearest and in desperation I reach out and grab it-

 _Trapped. Dying. No pain, weirdly enough. Just this feeling of being… both light and heavy at the same time. Did weed once, back when I was younger. This feels the same. Different though. I wasn't dying then. I am now. I can feel it._

 _Huh. Was kinda expecting some sort of highlight reel of my life to pass me by or something. Then again, I also expected that if I were to die horribly, I wouldn't be so calm about it. Would that be the adrenaline, or the bloodloss?_

 _Hey, I'm getting even lighter! Oh, Michael is carrying me. He's yelling. Not that unusual, between me an' Noah doing our mad science. Sterns sometimes too. He looks desperate._ _ **That's**_ _unusual. The guy is bulletproof, what does he have to look worried about-_

 _Oh._

 _Well isn't that kind of him. Knew he wasn't a_ _ **really**_ _bad guy. An asshole, sure, but not 100% a dick… I can't see him anymore. Everything's just different shades of gray and orange now. Now that's gone too._

 _Just black._

 _Shame._

 _There was so much more cool stuff that I wanted to build…_

I remember now… I died… yes, yes I died, I remember that I died once!

But I didn't die like that… no, this was someone else… also someone I know, but not as closely as the first memory…

Where am I?

Who am I?

What's going on?

Hello?

Is there anybody out-

A sea of thought slams into me, washing over me, pulling me down and almost drowning me as memories flash before my eyes, snippets of places and conversations. But I rage against it. The current is ripping at every part of me, trying to tear out my eyes, upheave my footing. But I roar as I try to keep standing in the whirlpool of thought, and as I open my mouth, memories rush in as an unintelligible tapestry of noise and color, though a single one soon dominates my field of vision and this time I almost know what's about to happen-

 _I carefully examine the markers on the smooth rocky surface, glancing closely at the details before leaning back in order to take in the larger picture. I know what I'll find. I've found it thousands of times before, over and over again. Still, the intricate knots are subtly different each time, especially when someone asks for their house to be redone in the latest fashion after a couple of hundred years, so it always pays to take your time before you start the chiseling._

 _I'm not artisan. By Muspelheim, I ain't even the best carver in this crew! That'd be the young Jormund over there, already cutting away at his part of the large wall-sculpture with an ease that I will never equal. Kid's got talent, that's for damned sure, doesn't even need the markers like most of us do and still gets every cut right._

 _Won't be surprised if the kid goes to apprentice under an actual artisan in a couple of decades._

 _Me though? I am the guy with the most experience, at least in this crew. This has to be the sixth time I've been a part of the large scale renovations of this mansion, and I swear to Odin, almost nothing has changed. Still, the pay is good, even as the work might be monotonous, as I lean forwards for the thousandth time, place the chisel against the mark_ _ **just so**_ _for the thousandth time, and start hammering in the same goddamned knot for the fucking thousandth time!_

 _There must be a better life than this, there_ _ **has**_ _to be!_

 _And if not better, then at the very least a hell of a lot more exciting!_

 _Apparently my cries caught Surtur's ears, because right at that moment, the double doors to the grand hall burst open, the young son of the Lord of the House (related to the Royal Family no less, as he kept reminding everyone_ _ **all the fucking time**_ _) dashing into the large room with the energy and glee only the youth possess._

 _The lad can be forgiven for his enthusiasm (he's only about 150 or so after all), but his father apparently thinks differently._

" _Thormund!" he barks, bringing the child to a halt and drawing our attention._

" _What is the meaning of this?!"_

" _Father! Father, they are recruiting Father!"_

" _ **They**_ _? Who is this they, my son?"_

" _The Berserkers, Father! A Berserker Army is to be formed, recruiters are calling across all of Asgard!"_

 _I haven't even noticed that I've lowered my tools as I half-turn to look at the child, completely ignoring little Thormund's crushed expression when his father sternly forbids him from joining a military force of raging warrior madmen, my own thoughts flying far away._

' _The Berserkers eh?' I think to myself._

I… know this… I don't know the names… I don't know the house… but I know this story.

Someone told it to me.

Someone… who?

To me… who?

Where am I?

Who am I?

What's going on?

Hello?

Is anybody out there?

A sea of thought slams into me, washing over me, pulling me down and almost drowning me as memories flash before my eyes, snippets of places and conversations. Once again (again? Has this happened before?) I try and hold my ground, hold myself together-

===== _mI_ _ **CHA**_ _el!_ ======

What… I hear something… Yes, I heard something! It was dim, overshadowed by the howling hurricane that surrounds my curled up form, but still I try to call out to it.

Hello?!

======MICHAEL!=======

Michael…. Who is…. That's me… right?

Yes… yes, I am Michael!

I am Michael McCole! I died and was reborn! I would become a God! And on my quest to Godhood, I had tried to obtain the…

… the Mind Stone.

It's fucking with me. I know it is. In response, the sea of noise and color once more pulls me under, but I curl in tight on myself, and this time (what? What do I mean? Did this happen before?) I don't lose myself to the current, or a powerful memory. Instead I can see multiple flashes of thought rush past me, each one faster than the one before, but getting clearer as well.

A memory of staring at moving legs, after years of being stuck in a wheelchair. An overwhelming emotion of awe as I stare up at the towering might of Otrhys, adults safely at either side of my small body, as well as the drowning feeling of despair as an old tannery goes up in flames around me. Briefly, a scent brushes past me faster than a bullet, leaving a lingering impression of grease, cold toppings and a ratty couch in my mind: pizza night, back when it was just me, Noah, Sam and Phineas in the old headquarters.

All this and more (so much more… is there no end? There might not be…) keeps slamming down onto me, swirling around me, tugging at my limbs, slashing at my eyes and throat.

How do I escape it?

=====michael====

The Mind Stone.

It's fucking with me.

I know it is. It… I remember… that it trapped me. It trapped me in a coma-like state for eleven days the last time I made contact with it. What has happened this time? It's probably even worse…

====Michael PLEASE we neED YOU TO sTop!=====

Stop?

Stop what?

What's going on?

The Mind Stone!

I need to escape, before I forget again!

==== MICHAEL PLEASE STop!=====

Someone's calling me… someone's telling me to stop….

Stop?

Stop what?

What's going on?

The Mind Stone!

It's making me forget! I need to escape this, I need to wake up! The voice, maybe I can reach the voice-

==== miCHAeL! **PLEASE! YOU'RE HURTING US!** =====

Hurting us?

Why would I hurt us?

Who is us?

What's going-

NO!

No, I remember this! This is wrong, something is terribly wrong!

I need to get out!

=====MICHAEL! wE can't TaKe Much MORe!====

I need to get out!

Towards the voice!

====MICHAEL! PLEASE! IT HURTS!=====

I need to get out!

Towards the voice!

It's getting clearer, I'm getting closer!

======MICHAEL! HURRY!=====

I need to get out!

The sea of memories draws even tighter, but I work myself to my knees.

I need to get out!

An enormous weight keeps slamming down on my back, like an angry giant trying to flatten me.

I need to get OUT!

I slowly raise my fists above my head, feeling something _underneath_ me and the thoughts and this world reach out towards me, warmth filling my body.

It's dark and it's angry and it's _me_.

I NEED TO GET OUT!

OUT!

OUT!

OUT!

Heat explodes from my body as my fist light up with a golden glow and with a roar (there's a darker echo, somewhere down below, far away, and deep inside of me all at once) I slam then down onto the ground underneath me.

And with a snap, my eyes open. For a moment, I'm not sure what I'm seeing, though my body is still in panic mode, my breaths coming in short, shallow gasps and my eyes flitting wildly around the room that I'm in.

No. Not just a room.

It's my Vault.

The Vault where I went to retrieve the Mind Stone together with Sterns-

"Sam!" I immediately call out, worry coiling in my cut as I whirl around, my eyes widening in shock as I lay eyes on my friend.

He's floating nearly two feet of the ground (as is everything else in sight), his back arched in an extremely painful looking way, his limbs cramped as if he's having a seizure. His eyes have rolled into the back of his head, and blood is flowing from his nose, ears and mouth.

The shock of seeing him like that hammers home, registering almost as if someone threw a bucket of ice at my head, clammy coldness rushing through my veins and replacing the tremendous heat from before (dimly I notice that the floor underneath me has melted and my Aurelion Armor is glowing as well, though my HUD helpfully informs me that all systems are still green).

With the sudden shock, my panic is broken and with that, Sterns (as well as all the shelves in the Vault) comes crashing down to the ground. I'm almost immediately at his side, my white cape fluttering wildly behind my at my sudden speed. I want to cradle Sam, but since my armor and skin are still giving off waves of heat, I am forced to keep my distance.

Instead, I merely settle on calling out to him, desperation leaking into my voice after the few dozen times that he doesn't show any response. I'm about to risk burning his skin in order to take him by the shoulder and give him a vigorous shake (I know that might make things worse. I don't care, it's _Sam_ , he needs to _wake up_ ), when a pitiful groan comes from the scientist.

"Sterns! Sterns, talk to me, are you alright! The fuck is wrong with me, of course you aren't alright, Sam listen! Listen to me! I'm gonna get help, alright! Try not to move, just stay still! I'll be back okay?!"

Another groan keeps me from bursting out of the Vault in order to drag Hansen, or Burstein or Phineas or literally anyone with access to medical equipment to help my friend, but Sterns' weak cough and twitch of his arm keep me at his side.

"… glad… you f-finally… listened… you _dick_ …" Sterns manages to gasp out, giving me a small, challenging grin, before his eyelids flutter closed, his face showing deep exhaustion.

Before his eyelids are even fully closed, I've already flown out of the room, roaring at the top of my lungs for help.

There's no answer.

Even Phineas remains silent.

* * *

 **AN:** Am I a mean son of a bitch for doing this? Yes. Yes I am. However, I've been dealing with a heavy bout of depression lately (as well as just regular physical illness as well) so I haven't had the time to sit down and write a proper chapter, so this is all you are gonna get for now. In better news, I'm in better shape now, and the draft for the next chapter has already been put to paper. Over the coming weekend, I'll manage to finish that and upload it (probably Saturday or Sunday, since tomorrow I have a dentist appointment amongst other things). So yeah, a cliffy for now, but the answer to your questions is only a few days away :)

 **Fun Fact:** A bell-themed Supervillain exists in the Marvel Universe who goes by the name of Doctor Bong.

 _As awlays, major shout out to my amazing Patrons, Miu, justlovereadin, Carn Krauss, ReapeScythe, Thordur hrafn, Daniel Dorfman, Fakhrurrozi and Samuel Carson! I cannot thank you guys enough for willing to support me as you do, so thanks again!_


	39. To infinity and beyond!

_**To infinity and beyond!**_

* * *

The Vault was located at the heart of my inner sanctum. It sat in the center of the lowest of Othrys' many floors, had walls several feet thick which were made from some of the most durable materials currently known to man and was shielded against just about every single form of radiation or energy signature imaginable.

A nuke could've dropped on top of New York, and yet the insides of the Vault would be mostly fine, especially since the entirety of Othrys served as yet another highly durable shell for the relatively small room.

Against the power of the Mind Stone, it proved insufficient.

All of my employees were forced to their knees as they experienced a combination of the most painful headache and the most terrifying nightmare they had ever had. The residential parts of Othrys, located far away from the Vault above ground and somewhat protected by the more durable subterranean levels below, were slightly better off. Many of the people there suddenly suffered splitting headaches, and a few of them passed out as well. That was the state I found the majority of my people in after dashing out of the Vault.

Some of my employees had suffered slightly different effects though. Elliot, with his more robust Asgardian mind, had come out of the ordeal the most intact of all my people, and was instrumental in trying to calm down the burgeoning chaos and panic that followed on the heels of my Xavier-like seizure. As it turned out, when the wave of tremendous mental energy slammed into him, Elliot managed to put up some slight resistance and had in fact intentionally pushed back his own thoughts towards me, much like Sterns had tried to do. It's why his memory came so clear to me.

Honestly, it was a small miracle that none of us were overcome with uncontrollable rage, a spillover effect of his memories of being a Berserker.

Thank god for Asgardian brains' durability, I suppose.

Skye's and Darryl's Inhuman powers had reacted… violently, to the attack. Sky had been taking a nap on the couch in her room when the seizure happened, Skye's powers involuntarily activating and reducing the furniture she had been lying on into dust, dropping her to the floor, where she kept shaking the entire part of the residential wing her room was located in. Darryl had been in his human form when I fucked up with the Mind Stone, and the mental attack caused his flames to violently explode from his body, turning him into a small inferno. Thankfully, he had been playing catch with his dad in one of the smaller indoor gardens, which meant that (other than reducing all plant life around him to charcoal) nobody got hurt from the flames, his Extremis-enhanced father escaping the sudden fire unscathed.

What little mental defenses Pangborn had were insufficient to protect him from the brunt of the Mind Stone's attack, but they did buy him enough time to withdraw deep into his mind in order to protect himself, sinking into a deep meditation that lasted long after the attack had ended. He woke up on his own though, and other than a mild headache wasn't too worse for wear.

I was lucky that my Brain-Boosted scientists possessed sufficient mental energy to at least hold their own somewhat against the tidal wave of pure thought that exploded from the Vault, though they all suffered enormous headaches which confined them to two days of bedrest at minimum (only Sterns had proven powerful enough to actually push through the attack in order to reach me, giving me the incentive I needed to pull myself from the loop that the Mind Stone had put me in).

As such, when I burst into her lab right on the heels of the attack, Maya Hansen was still conscious enough to provide medical care for Sterns (or mostly to instruct the semi-automated systems of Othrys to do so, since she fell into a deep sleep shortly after).

With his physical injuries almost immediately cared for (he had minor fractures in just about every single bone in his body, had a dislocated wrist as well as both shoulders and would probably have some back pain for the coming week or so), I could focus my attention to what had happened to his mind. Deep scans of his oversized head didn't tell me much, other than that he displayed similar symptoms as to what would happen to a brain after not sleeping for well over a week. The physical damage seemed to be repairing itself at a startlingly rapid pace, meaning that Sterns had given himself a respectable healing factor somewhere down the line without bothering to tell me (probably because he didn't think it such a big deal).

He didn't wake up though. It wasn't quite a coma, but rather a very deep healing sleep.

As for Phineas… to be honest, I didn't know if he could ever wake up. With his mind connected to the entirety of Othrys, Phineas got hit the hardest out of all of us. While he had no actual body to experience pain with, looking over the security footage showed all of the systems going haywire for a couple of minutes, a tortured sound coming from just about every speaker inside Othrys, before everything just went… dead.

In order to save himself, Phineas had cut himself off from everything and anything, completely pulling out of Othrys' systems and even the pedestal that housed his phylactery, his mind now completely confined within the silicone replica of his original brain. With literally no link to the outside world, there also wasn't a way for Phineas to register the passing of time, so for all we knew, over a hundred years or so, he might still think that the attack was occurring and would still hide away inside of his own mind. It also meant that there was no way that we could think of to reach him and wake him up. The artificial brain didn't register touch, so holding it in my hands didn't do anything either. I briefly thought about inserting my chi into it, but I had no idea what would happen to Phineas, his mind or even his soul if I did that, so I held off on trying it.

For now.

I already had ideas on how to bring them back, but a rollercoaster of events kept me on my toes and away from Sterns' sickbed, or Phineas' pedestal. First was the frantic call from Harper, who assumed the worst had happened when his communications with Othrys' were suddenly cut off with a spike of static. Unable to reach base and unwilling to either stick around even longer or to return empty-handed, Harper had ordered the Hysminai to breach Whitehall's fortress, killing as many Hydra agents as they could on the way in and out. A part of the forces there had survived though, which meant that the Hysminai were no longer complete unknowns as they were before.

The only upside of that debacle was that Harper and the Hysminai were coming back home, with Whitehall in their custody, and nobody the wiser about their identity or allegiance due to their unmarked armor and full-face helmets.

The second call that I got was from a desperate Jessica. It took me a while to calm her down (mostly because I was still a jumble of nerves and paranoia myself), but eventually I learned that she had seen a news item on the TV in her hotel which reported that an unknown attack had struck part of New York, with large amounts of people suddenly simultaneously experiencing a severe headache. There were no serious or lasting injuries once the attack had passed, though people with epilepsy and the like were recommended to take a day off and try to recuperate at home, since the attack hit them worse than other people.

Jessica had immediately assumed (correctly) that something in Othrys had happened, her fears only growing when she couldn't contact us for a few minutes before we finally managed to get the basic systems of Othrys up and running again after Phineas cut himself out of all of them. What surprised me wasn't that she was upset, but rather at whom she was upset _with_ , namely herself.

"Michael… Michael, I'm so sorry… me and my fucking _time_ _limit_! I shouldn't have pushed you, _now_ look what happened-"

"Jess, Jess it's alright. Actually, no, no it isn't. But it's _going_ to be alright. I'll make sure of it. What happened today? It will _never_ happen again, I swear."

"Look, I'll go find Trish and we'll come right back-"

"Don't. I want you here, I do, but it isn't safe right now."

"I _know_ , which is why I'm coming back-"

"A lot of attention is going to be on Othrys now Jessica. It won't take the Government, or S.H.I.E.L.D. long to triangulate the epicenter of the attack. Hell, I'm betting that Stark has already found it as we speak. I will _not_ have that attention shift to you as well. Or towards the baby. Stay where you are. Stay _safe_. Please."

"…"

"Jess, _please_."

"… fuck! Fucking _fine_! I'll stay away. But if someone is dumb enough to end up on your doorstep, willing to bust down the gates, then you can bet your ass I'm coming over in order to ride Susan into battle, you hear me?"

"Yes dear."

That left both the general forces of Othrys to deal with, as well as the forces _outside_ of Othrys as well. There wasn't much I could do about the latter until they made the first move, so instead I focused on the former. I realized quickly that, while things could've gone a _lot_ worse (if it weren't for the fact that I stood inside the Vault when I made my rookie mistake, then _everyone_ could've ended up with injuries similar to Sterns) a wide-scale mental attack like this would still spook my forces, especially since they knew about Kilgrave's history with his own mental powers.

I needed to keep my forces from leaving Othrys and my employ. Mostly because they simply knew too much, and I didn't want to kill them all off, but a (surprisingly large) part of me had also become attached to my people.

It wasn't just the fact that they had proven themselves utterly loyal to me for well over a year now (not a single Othrys design had ever been stolen or leaked, despite the multitude of attempts that I was aware of, a fair few of them involving bribing my forces, sometimes for ridiculously high amounts), it was also the fact that Othrys (and the people in it) had over time shifted from merely being a base to becoming a home.

From joining in large meals in the communal areas, to sparring with my security team, to the superpowered sports that we would play together on one of the many different fields on the upper recreational levels, I had begun to interact with my people more and more on a non-business level.

They weren't friends like Sterns, Phineas or even Harper, but they were people whose company I enjoyed, like comfortable background noise, and I would be genuinely saddened if they decided to turn their backs on me (especially since that would mean… _dealing_ with them somehow).

I suspected that it would actually be the families of my employees that would be the hardest to swing back to my side though. The people who worked for me were reminded with every single step they took (sometimes literally) that they had _me_ to thank for their current situation: they were healthier than they had ever hoped to be, with their families well provided for and living in the most advanced fortress in the world. The mental attack was a shock to their system without a doubt, but I hoped that their immense gratitude towards me would offset that somewhat.

Unfortunately, their families didn't have that factor to insure their loyalty. Oh, they were grateful for me improving their lives in general, sure, but it wasn't as personal or ever-present like with the crippled employees who I gave their limbs back.

So, in order to unite the forces of Othrys once more under my banner so that I could present a united front to whoever from the outside world would be knocking on my door soon, I called a general assembly in the main communal area of the residential levels of Othrys. As it was a large space with long tables and connected to both the buffet and an indoor plaza, this was where people would usually drift towards during mealtimes, meaning that it often was a lively place.

Now, however, only a day after I fucked up with the Mind Stone, the tone was somber, the adults looking towards where I stood with serious expressions, the children all off on another level where they were being babysat by some of the adults until this meeting was over. I had planned for the half dozen teenagers or so within Othrys to be excluded as well, but quickly realized that it would inevitably lead to some of them trying to listen in regardless, the feeling of being shut out probably causing them to do something stupid down the line.

Every single young adult book protagonist was a perfect example of doing just that (looking at you, Harry Potter, I still haven't forgiven you for being a moody little shit in Book 5), so in order to stamp out any hint towards young 'heroism' in the future I had reluctantly allowed the teenagers to sit in as well.

Not that their opinions would really matter in the grand scheme of things, but the illusion that it would should keep them out of my hair (so to speak).

As I stood there in front of my assembled people, my burning eyes slowly tracking across the crowd in order to look each and every single one of them in the eye I focused on the new addition to my power set.

Or rather, an _enhanced_ version of a power that I had recently added to my power set.

Where before, the thoughts of other people had usually felt faint and smoke-like to my new mental senses, _now_ they stood out to me with crystal clear sharpness. I no longer had to 'lean' into the representation of their thoughts in order to get impressions of what they were thinking about, but instead, all I had to do was _look_.

Each person whose eyes I met gained a halo of color, noise, smell and thought around them, one which I could interpret with ease. Looking closer and focusing on my senses, I could pick up their surface thoughts word for word. I knew that if I truly focused, that if I stilled my body, and quieted my own mind, I could look deeply into theirs (barring any mental defenses of course, and even then I felt that I could breach all but the very strongest of them).

I also knew that I could do more than merely looking.

With a deep breath, I began talking. I explained that an accident had occurred due to mishandling of a highly dangerous and unknown substance. I stressed that this fault in misuse could not have been anticipated due to the unpredictable nature of the substance in question. I kept hammering on the fact that things could've gone a _lot_ worse if it hadn't been for _my_ precautions, _my_ safety guides for the construction of Othrys, that kept this disaster contained to its absolute minimum. I kept repeating that I was already working on bringing back Sterns and Phineas, and that there was no doubt in my mind that I would be successful in doing so.

On and on and _on_ , I kept reassuring my frightened people. And with every single word that I spoke, I _pushed_ thoughts towards them.

 _Safety. Confidence. Loyalty. Safety. Confidence. Loyalty._

I could've mind-wiped them. Used the same bull-in-a-China-shop technique that I had used to turn the Winter Soldiers into my unthinking slaves. The Mind Stone was powerful enough to easily overwrite their memories and thoughts, even when they were assembled in such a large group, giving me mindless sycophants instead.

I didn't try it, because I didn't want to. I didn't _want_ mindless sycophants. I just wanted them to keep faith in me, so that they wouldn't leave Othrys. I didn't want to turn this already horrible experience into a drawn out tragedy by forcing myself to kill off or mentally enslave the people that had willingly followed me for well over a year.

I just wanted things to go back to the way they were before.

 _Safety. Confidence. Loyalty. Safety. Confidence. Loyalty._

Every time someone spoke up, asking me questions (mostly focused about whether there were any further plans for mind-related experiments or not, and what I had to say about my accident harming their children) I responded as earnestly as I could, looking them deep into their eyes as I responded.

And once I had, I could tell that their own minds had been turned more and more towards my side again, to the point that the persons that were the most vocal about taking their families and leaving Othrys (a pair of extremely annoying sisters, a petite brunette and a blonde with wide eyes) eventually came around to actually start defending my actions.

The people that were the hardest to _subtly_ influence were thankfully also the people whose loyalty I didn't need to question. My Think Tank wouldn't give up their places at Othrys for anything in the world (even though Agnes raised quite a few concerns, but Radcliffe was enough to keep her in line after I sent her a lot of calming thoughts and emotions). While Elliot Randolph wasn't exactly immune to the effects of my mental powers (boosted by the Mind Stone as they were), his greater resilience wouldn't prove to be an issue, since the Asgardian had come to love living in a place where he didn't have to hide his alien nature every second of every day as he had done for the past thousand years or so.

Pangborn, being trained in the Mystic Arts and therefore possessing a more fortified mind than usual, was the hardest to control out of those with partial immunity to my mental suggestions. While he was immensely grateful to me for restoring his legs, he had always remained just a bit hesitant in fully joining Othrys. He thought that I moved too fast through all that he had to teach me about Magic, thought that me and Hansen were doing something both very foolish as well as very dangerous in trying to unravel the fundamental nature of the Mystic Arts. What was worse was that he saw that we were actually making a bit of progress on that front.

Still, with the might of the Mind Stone boosting my mental powers, even the wizard couldn't stand up to the full brunt of my suggestions when I turned to look him in the eye after he questioned me about my hunger for power.

 _Safety. Confidence. Loyalty. Safety. Confidence. Loyalty._

I sat there with my people for almost three hours straight, continuously trying to win them over both with words and with my mind. Instead of the somewhat nervous and agitated mob that had assembled here, I was now facing an audience that was completely engrossed in every single thing that I said.

It wasn't enough to _completely_ silence all of their fears, since most of those would continue to remain hanging around in their subconscious for quite a while still, but it was a start. At the very least, I could trust in not having to deal with defectors for the coming month or so, if nothing else goes rampantly wrong.

Which is of course when a portal opens up in the plaza.

I already know who it is before I spot her bald head (the fact that my mind brushes against the most impressive mental fortifications that I have experienced so far, outclassing Elliot's natural resiliency by an enormous margin, clues me in as well), and with a sigh I clap my hands, drawing the attention of the crowd back towards me while I draw in my mental powers again, keeping them safely inside the confines of my own head.

No reason to make the Ancient One even more wary than she already is about me, right?

"Thank you all for your attention people! I'm glad that we could have had this conversation and do please remember that my office is open at all hours of the day. If there's _anything_ that you wish to discuss with me, please, feel free to do so. Thank you."

After a brief, polite applause, the crowd disperses, still somewhat in a daze after being exposed to the effects of the Mind Stone for hours on end. As they part, the Ancient One strides towards me, much like Moses walking through the Red Sea.

She doesn't look happy.

I draw myself up to my full height, towering over the diminutive (but oh so dangerous) woman, glad that I'm still wearing my Aurelion Armor, before giving her a slight bow.

"Ancient One."

For a moment, she simply eyes me up and down, her hands hidden in her wide sleeves (meaning that any spell she has prepared there are hidden from view as well).

"I see you have taken your new title to heart then, _Hyperion_." She eventually says, her voice completely unreadable (and frustratingly enough, her mind is as well).

"A title that you bestowed upon me, Ancient One."

"You took the name Hyperion long before I met you, Mr. McCole. It was _you_ who claimed the name. The title that _I_ bestowed during our first meeting on the other hand was merely a confirmation of your power, of where you now stand in the fabric of reality." The Master of the Mystic Arts explains, her face still emotionless and her voice completely neutral.

Deciding not to beat around the bush any further, I walk out from under the covered dining area into the open plaza, hearing her slippers falling into step behind me. The large open space should give me more freedom of movement should we come to blows, since the Ancient One doesn't really need all that much space in order to charge a spell that could do some serious damage to me.

Still though…

"Why are you here, Ancient One? This time, you have arrived without Master Kaecillius, nor Master Mordo, even though I am more powerful now than I was before. Have you not come to fight me then? To mete out punishment for my error?" I rumble, half turning in order to peer at her, my faceplate folded away so that she can see my serious expression (though the Mind Stone in my forehead is still perfectly concealed by a removable plate of Vibranium).

"The reasons for my visit are many and varied. The reason as to why I approach you _now_ should make itself apparent any time now." The Ancient One serenely replies.

"What are you-" I begin, only to be interrupted by the light suddenly dimming.

Looking up into the open sky far above me, I see thick dark clouds rolling overhead with unnatural speed, thunder rumbling distressingly close not soon after.

"Oh shit…"

"Not the words I would have used, but that would be the general gist of it yes." The Ancient One calmly responds, before turning towards the elevators.

"What are you going to do?" I ask as I follow her, my mind turned towards the highly… _problematic_ conversation I'm about to have.

I almost ask aloud for Phineas to contact Jane Foster (time for her to fulfill her role as my anti-Asgardian defense system), before I catch myself. Phineas is gone, and until this is handled, I can't focus on bringing him and Sam back. The realization steels my resolve, my faceplate slamming closed. A quick flick of my eyes calls up Foster's profile, and it's the work of moments to send her a message, telling her to meet me at the gates.

"I'm going to do what I've done a depressingly large amount of times during my centuries long life, Hyperion." The Ancient One responds, pressing the button for the elevator and folding her hands behind her back (incidentally showing me that she doesn't have a spell charged and ready to go).

Looking towards me from the corner of her eyes as I come to a halt beside her, a small smirk plays around her lips.

"I'm going to go and try to keep two gods from bashing each other's skull in, since they always end up destroying much of the surrounding landscape when they do."

Her calling me a god once again tweaks my mystical senses and I know on a fundamental level that my 'place in reality' as the Ancient One puts is has changed even further.

"Huh. And how's that been working out for you?"

"Hmm. You know about the Tunguska Event from 1908?"

"… yes?"

"That was the last time I had to do so. The two gods were young and proved to both be quite foolish, and as a result, over 770 square miles of land ended up completely flattened. It was only due to the sparse population and my intervention that no human life was harmed." the Ancient One says, displeasure leaking into her voice, which comes to a halt when a cheery ding announces that our lift has arrived.

She quickly strides inside, calling out in a clear voice for the ground floor, staring calmly ahead as I stand beside her, the doors closing and the elevator beginning its descent, cheery music playing softly in the background.

We spend the entire ride in complete silence, until yet another ding rings out, announcing that we have arrived at our destination, but before the doors have fully opened, the Ancient One slightly turns her head in order to shoot me a piercing look, one hairless eyebrow raised in challenge.

"At least _try_ not to act foolish as well, Hyperion. New York is slightly more populated than the Siberian taiga, and I would rather _not_ repeat the events of 1908 again, understood?"

And with a whirl of cloth, she's gone, striding confidently through my Great Hall towards the gates, leaving me to follow, my fists clenched at my sides.

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

I'm not surprised by what I see on the security feed from the main gate which is displayed on the HUD of my helmet. Cap and Peggy are there, as well as Iron Man and an angry looking Thor. Fury is probably either at yet another Senate hearing or at a blacksite ordering god knows what kind of mission. Romanov and Barton are probably on said mission.

What I _am_ surprised about is who _isn't_ at the gate. Instead of Bruce Banner standing next to Steve or Tony, the Hulk is off in my jungle, giving Susan a belly rub. Considering the ripped clothes at the pier where a Quinjet is parked, and the weirded out glances the Avengers keep shooting my jungle (including Thor whenever he's not trying to stare a hole in Othrys' gates), they didn't expect it either.

I put the green behemoth out of my mind when the Ancient One and me finally reach the gates, which open smoothly at my command. The moment Thor's eyes land on me, he's stalking towards me, pissed of expression on his face and Mjolnir clenched tightly in his hand (his thoughts are difficult to read, literally enshrouded in a veil of force, but the anger is unmistakable, even to my newly awakened mental senses).

His eyes aren't made of lighting though, so at least that's something in my favor.

"Hyperion! Where's Jane!? What have you done to her?!"

"Thor, calm down. She's-"

"I will _not_ calm down! You hurt one of my people-"

His rant is cut off, because with a sharp whistling sound of displaced air I'm suddenly _right there_ in his face. Even as large as he is, I still tower over him, his blonde head only reaching my chin. Seeing my glowing breastplate suddenly only a few inches away from his face startles him, and before he can recollect himself, I lean in, my voice an angry growl.

I know that the Ancient One literally _just_ asked me to keep my cool, but I had been under a lot of stress the past few days, guilt and worry over my friend's fates gnawing at me, and then for Thor to immediately start throwing around accusations... well, suffice to say, at that point, I was itching for a fight to take my mind off things.

"They are _my_ people as well, Thor, son of Odin. I do not need your accusations on top of the worry that I already feel towards them. I do not need you to lay the blame for this accident at _my_ feet, when it was _your_ brother who put us all in this position in the first place!"

Most humans would've backed down when an enormous armored figure is standing not even a foot away from them and who clearly had a shitty past few days and is probably just looking for an excuse to hit something very hard.

Thor isn't human though.

He merely bares his teeth and gives a twirl of his hammer as he steps even closer to me.

"Return Jane to me. _Now_."

Heat spreads to all of my limbs, my hands lighting up with a golden glow as I clench them into fists.

"Or?" I ask dangerously, but Thor doesn't back down at all.

"Or I'll show you why you shouldn't mess with the God of Thunder."

"Go ahead and try me, little god. And I'll show _you_ why you shouldn't threaten the _Titan_ of Light and Fire."

" _Or_ , the both of you can cease to act like children and deal with this situation befitting your age. You might both be young still, but you _are_ adults. Act like it."

Both Thor and I break our staring contest to stare a little dumbfounded at the annoyed look on the Ancient One's face. What surprises me is to see recognition on Thor's face, since he gives an awkward cough as he steps away from me at her forbidding look. As we slowly back down, the glow coming off my body dims, the temperature all around us lowering to normal levels again, while the clouds start clearing overhead.

"Now then, if we could all agree to _not_ getting into a superpowered fight here on the lawn like a bunch of rowdy hooligans…?" the Ancient One trails off with a raised eyebrow, staring down all of us one by one, until we all give her a nod.

"Perfect. Then why not come inside for a cup of tea?" she continues with a smile, and without waiting for any of us, walks back into Othrys.

"What about Bru… the Hulk?" Peggy hesitantly asks, turning over her shoulder to look at the dense forest behind her.

Before anyone of us can reply, a great bout of flame bursts out over the top of the trees about half a mile away from us, soon followed by deep, rumbling laughter and something that sounds suspiciously like 'Again, kitty! Again!'.

 **"I suspect Bruce's little green friend will be just fine for the time being, Agent Carter. For now, I suggest following the orders of the little lady whose apparently enough of a big shot that she can get Thor to back down from a fight and to invite Hyperion into his own home for a cup of tea."** comes Stark's mechanical voice, the speakers in his armor doing nothing to hide his sarcastic tone.

He goes to follow the Ancient One, though he pauses as he walks by me, and though I can't see his face, I just _know_ that he's raising his eyebrow at me.

 **"The gold is a bit… much, don't you think?"**

"You'll forgive me for not taking fashion advice from the man who flies around in a titanium- _gold_ alloy." I coolly reply, my mind slightly touching upon his.

As I suspected, there was a _lot_ of suspicion there, aimed at me. A surprisingly large part of those suspicions were at least partially correct as well. What intrigued me was the slight anger that was present in his mind at well. Part of it was aimed at me, naturally, but part was aimed at himself as well, an ugly combination of jealousy and guilt, related to whatever beef he had with me.

It seems Stark is kicking himself over the fact that my inventions were more helpful in saving New York during the One Day War, as well as during the clean-up afterwards.

I can work with that.

 **"Well, the PR-department just absolutely _loves_ it though. Just look at the sale-figures for all the Iron Man paraphernalia. Not just toys, but posters, lunchboxes, you name it."**

"Of course they love it. Their audience consists mainly of _children_ and we all know that they just possess the _greatest_ fashion sense, now don't they?" I reply, sarcasm lining my voice, and while the armor doesn't give away any of his expressions, his mind tells me that my taunt has gotten under his skin.

 **"Why don't we take this inside? There are actually _important_ things that need to be discussed after all, rather than which one of us has the better taste, since that is a conversation without end. You know. Eye of the beholder and all that."** Stark says in a clipped voice, and then he's brushed past me as well.

Following on his heels are Peggy and Steve, never more than an arms-length away from each other. Their minds are a study in contrast though. Peggy's is like a non-Euclidian knot, full of twists and turns and shadowy sections that fold in on themselves. I _could_ breach it if I brute-forced my way, but it would surely leave my head spinning.

Steve's on the other hand was an open book. Not to say that it was any weaker than Peggy's (in fact, I suspected that his mental fortitude was either equal to, or greater than Elliot's natural resistance), but there was simply no deception there. Steve was perfectly capable of lying and acting in a covert manner (his past as a Spec Ops commander, as well as the events from the Winter Soldier movie onwards are sufficient proof of that), but his _intentions_ were transparent as glass.

No matter the deed, Steve would _always_ act in a way that he felt was _right_.

He truly was a man that personified the American Ideals of Truth, Liberty and Justice, in heart, body and mind.

What was interesting to learn from their minds that they were far less antagonistic towards me than the other two Avengers who had already followed the Ancient One inside my base. Part of it stemmed from their gratefulness for my crucial part in bringing the two of them together, healthy and whole again. Part of that was my usefulness in their ongoing fight against Hydra, or at least their perception of my usefulness. I made sure to only give them individuals of different cells, instead of allowing them to roll up entire parts of the organization at once. As much as a pain in my ass Hydra has been over the last few years, they are still useful to me as a counterpoint to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s power. As long as Hydra exists (weakened, of course) then S.H.I.E.L.D. will be diverting resources towards them and away from, say, me.

"Good afternoon, Mr. McCole." Steve said with a nod, always the polite one.

"Good afternoon Captain Rogers. While it _is_ nice to see you again, I had hoped for it to be under different circumstances. Will you be staying for dinner?"

"We would love to, but unfortunately we can't. I need to get back to the Senate in DC before they drive young Nicholas over the edge and he starts contemplating throwing them all off the highest floor in the building." Peggy cuts in, and from her mind I glean that she's partially telling the truth.

She does feel the need to assist Fury in holding his own against the federal government (she's a bit iffy on whether he'll be tempted to throw politicians off of rooftops or not), but the hearing that her mind flashes towards isn't until tomorrow.

Oh well, it's no skin off my back.

"How unfortunate. Please know that the two of you are welcome in Othrys at any time. If you would follow me?"

And with that, I lead the remaining two Avengers (thank _god_ Susan is here to distract the Hulk, I did _not_ like the way he was eyeing me during the Battle for New York) into my base. It doesn't take the Mind Stone to tell me that they caught the fact that I only welcomed the two of them into my base.

Clearly they got the message that the same does not apply to their colleagues.

* * *

While I would like to relate the long and difficult meeting that I had with the four Avengers inside my base, the truth is, there's not much to tell.

Thor immediately became a non-issue the moment that Jane (still bleary eyed and occasionally squinting her eyes due to her lingering headache) dashed through the Hall, threw her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss that rivalled the one Jessica had given me after she thought I had committed suicide by alien portal, combined with suicide by nuke.

Stark wanted to drag Thor back into the conversation, but the Ancient One shot me a quick look, clearly wanting me to keep Thor distracted for as long as possible, so I spoke up before Tony could.

"Jane, why don't you give Thor a tour of the facilities? It should give you both a chance to relax for a while and catch up." I told her.

Thankfully, Foster was quick on the uptake, and after taking Thor by the hand, started leading him towards the top floor of Othrys. While she and Thor were in a significantly stronger relationship now than they originally would've been, I knew from a brief glimpse into her mind that she would keep the Norse God away from the restricted lower levels.

As far as the outside world was concerned, Othrys was a perfectly normal building with maybe a two or perhaps even three sublevels, instead of the underground maze that was actually there.

Stark was clearly annoyed at having his heaviest hitter removed from the game, but since the Ancient One's reason for coming here in the first place (or at least _one_ of the reasons) was to keep me and Thor from coming to blows, she gave the inventor a stern look, causing him to sit back down at the table we were all seated around at her request, a steaming cup of tea in front of all us (none of us had a clue at how they got there).

From there on, it became a battle of wills and words, me on one side, Tony and his fellow Avengers on the other. As it turned out, the Avengers were here due to Tony's own investigation into the sudden mental attack the previous day, but since it coincided with the research done by several different government agencies, they were also here in a representative capacity, a conference call quickly set up including the top dogs in the CIA, NSA and FBI (as well as a few smaller branches that I didn't quite get the name of).

Clearly, Stark's plan of attack had been to distract me with an opening volley of legal terms and unsubtle threats by the government goons, while he was stealthily trying to hack my systems as my attention was drawn by the agents who were salivating over my advanced tech and doing a bad job of hiding it. He had anticipated that I would get annoyed with all the legal crap that would be thrown at me (probably projecting from his own experience as a brilliant inventor working closely with the government), which would allow him to swoop in and 'save' me from them, injecting himself into a fellow-inventor (and therefore) buddy position.

Essentially, he was trying to pull a bad cop-good cop strategy on me, using multiple directors of various spy and military agencies as his bad cop without them even being aware of it.

Steve's mind told me he was annoyed with all the talking and shadowy strategies that were being used in order to ferret out just what had happened and whether or not it was enough grounds to draw up a warrant that would let various agencies within their legal right to bust down my door and to try and take my stuff for themselves.

 _Try_ being the operative word here.

No, Steve didn't care about using the incident as a means to get at my tech. What he cared about was the fact that apparently, something that had happened inside Othrys had hurt a lot of people. All he wanted to know was how it happened, whether there was any danger of it happening again, and whether he would have to try and stop me if that was the case.

Peggy was also annoyed, but mostly because she suspected that Tony's strategies wouldn't work on me, meaning that they were essentially wasting their time. Like Steve, she cared more about the people that had gotten hurt, and as such was itching to do a thorough search on my base in order to relieve me from the apparently dangerous materials that I was working with. However, unlike Stark or his unwitting band of distracting directors, she also knew that I would never allow something like that. If push came to shove, I would protect my base from outside intrusion, and Peggy had enough data about me to work from to come to the conclusion that she did _not_ want anything to do with such a scenario at all.

While the amount of people that had gotten hurt should be defended against any such further attacks, Peggy also realized that the people that would be hurt from the fall-out from a conflict between me and the government or the Avengers (or both) would end up hurting _far_ more people, even if you only counted those that would no longer have access to the life-saving medicine that I was slowly starting to sell on the pharmaceutical market.

So she was thinking much along the lines of Steve: find out what the hell happened, try and make sure it never happens again, and then get the hell out of here.

Now, Tony's opening tactic might have worked for a little while (at least enough for him to plant a bug unnoticed) but he hadn't counted on _my_ conference call.

"I think you'll find that Mr. McCole, and Titan Solutions as a whole, have held themselves to the strict security standards that apply to all R&D sites regarding weaponry and industrial innovation, and as such legally _cannot_ be held accountable for the discomfort _allegedly_ experienced by an unquantified number of individuals in New York City, especially since you have no _concrete_ proof that my client was the cause of said discomfort. This City is quite large, after all, the supposed episode might have been caused by _anything_ really. In fact, if you'll look to Paragraph F in Section 6.2 of the Article that my associates have sent you..."

Jeri Hogarth once again pulled through for me, her sharp tongue coming clearly from the speaker I had placed on the table, cleaving through the bullshit that the goverment goons were spewing like a hot knife through butter, countering with even _more_ complex legal terms.

As Stark's opening salvo quickly ground to a halt, it failed to distract me, so I caught the exact moment that he his hand brushed across the underside of the table, which immediately tried to find a connection to Othrys' systems (the fact that his mind simply radiated smugness was also a big give-away).

Taking my eyes of the heroes in front of me, I instead focus on the small bug that Tony has placed, and with a slight flex of my will, I crush the delicate mechanisms inside. As I had suspected from when I saw everything floating in the air around me when I woke up from the mental loop the Mind Stone had put me in, I now had burgeoning psychokinetic powers, meaning that I could do a variety of things with the power of my mind, which included telepathy as well as telekinesis.

Hell, since I'm bald and have gotten my powers from experimental drugs, I could be considered to be the MCU version of Eleven from Stranger Things.

Or a Jedi, but I hadn't been able to build a lightsaber ( _yet_ ).

Other than a slight twitch in his posture at the tiny sparks that game from the concealed bug I had destroyed (as well as him clearly being startled showing through in his whirring thoughts), Stark gave no outward sign of him having noticed the destruction of his little spy gadget, though all three Avengers regarded me with a sudden tension as they knew that I knew about Stark's frankly illegal action just now.

The Ancient One simply kept sipping her tea with a mildly amused expression on her face as she listened to Jeri tearing the head of the CIA a new one after the man gave a rather impressive clumsy attempt at intimidating the unbreakable lawyer.

I _could_ use the bug as grounds for starting shit with the Avengers, but that would mean that they no longer had any reason to play nice with me either. At the moment, we were two Great Whites circling one another in a shallow pond. The shark representing the Avengers (and thus in an indirect way, the government as well) had just tried to nip at my tail, but was unable to sink their teeth in. Now, I could either retaliate, causing us to try and rip each other apart and thus ruining our little pool, or I could let them off lightly, keeping the strained co-existence intact, though with them now in a disadvantageous position.

Since I had bigger things on my mind than fighting a costly and possibly drawn out battle with the Avengers, I chose the latter option, no matter how much I would have personally liked to pull a fast one on Stark.

When it became clear to the Avengers that I didn't intend to use Stark's actions in order to either drag them to court or immediately (and publicly) kick them off my island, they took it as the sign it was meant for: an olive branch. I wouldn't say anything about the bug and in return the Avengers would get to leave with their heads held high and without a black mark staining their records, though morally indebted to me.

Casually leaning forwards, placing one thick arm onto the table and placing a massive fist under my armored chin told them that they had best be leaving _right the fuck now_ or the deal would be off the table.

Getting the message, Peggy was the first to rise, giving a polite nod towards both me and the Ancient One which the both of us returned. Steve immediately followed his woman's lead, though he clearly wanted to stay and impress upon me how I should refrain from endangering the citizens of New York any further.

While I couldn't speak and assure him that it wouldn't happen again (the conference call was still on, and my words could be used as an admission of guilt after all), I _did_ send the good Captain a wave of comforting thought, and the man's posture relaxed after that, though his mind remained wary.

I was pretty pleased with myself, until I glanced over at the Ancient One and noticed that she was staring at me with an unreadable expression which still somehow conveyed that I was in deep shit.

Stark realized that the game was up when he knew that his bug had been immediately found, and he looked incredibly displeased when he stood up as well, his faceplate slamming shut and the eyes coming to life with a baleful glow. Without a word, he shut off the conference call and stomped out of my Hall, Steve and Peggy hurrying to keep up with him. By the sound of repulsors blasting off, Stark didn't have the patience to ride back with them on the Quinjet.

Thanking the confused Hogarth (all she had heard was a couple of chairs scraping over the floors when the multitude of voices she had been gleefully arguing with were suddenly cut off) I turned to face the Ancient One fully, half-expecting to be met with Eldritch energy to the face right off the bat.

Instead, she looked... tired? Sad, even.

Her staring quickly made me uncomfortable, to the point that I politely coughed into my fist and broke the silence.

"Uhm, Ancient One? Is everything... alright?"

For a moment, she just keeps on looking at me, before a deep sigh comes from her lips.

"In Kamar-Taj, all books may be read, though the reader may not understand all that is written. All relics may be freely gazed upon, but only those worthy of them may wield them. There is no knowledge that is forbidden, merely certain practices. It is the mark of the Ancient One to determine which rituals shall remain forbidden, which must _become_ forbidden, and which shall be allowed once more. When I became the Ancient One, I didn't change much, to be honest. After all, I was quite young, back then, and I didn't feel wise enough to disregard that which those before me had ordained in their greater wisdom. But as my own wisdom grew, as well as my foresight through use of the Eye of Agamotto, I started to abandon my earlier caution. I am a scholar at heart, Michael. All the books were still allowed to be read. But I began to question my predecessors. And burdened with the gift of foresight, I saw only danger in them. I began to forbid many things, more than most other Ancient Ones have during their lifetime. After all, was I not the wisest? Was I not the most powerful? Who else but _me_ had the required wisdom to see, the required foresight to _know_ which things were _too_ dangerous for my followers?"

The Ancient One falls silent for a moment, her vision focused on something far away and long ago. When she resumes talking, it's in a tone of deep sadness.

"And that was the beginning of the end. Some of the practices that I had forbidden I do not regret, even now. Mainly those dealing with sacrifices and the like. And my foresight told me that I had acted justly. But that was merely an illusion, the calm before the storm as they say. After a while, instead of seeing a brighter future, I instead saw a future that merely got darker. Recalling that brief period of enlightenment after my first commands, I once again resorted to forbidding practices and rituals, hoping to stave off the coming darkness. But it was to no avail, and the more I struggled to change the future, the darker it became, until my worst fears were proven correct."

At this, she turns towards me, somehow managing to stare me straight in the eyes even through the faceplate I'm wearing.

"I saw that I would die at the hands of one who I had trained in the Mystic Arts myself. I thought about renouncing my position then and there, to pass on the mantle to another, almost four hundred years ago now. But I found none who were worthy. So I again tried to undo my fate, and wanted to refrain from teaching anyone at all for the remainder of my lifespan. But an Ancient One who does not teach, is no Ancient One at all, so I continued guiding others on the path to healing. But while I cared for those who came to study under my roof, I did not become close to them, for a part of me could not abandon my fear of them. And through this distance, and through my arrogance in forbidding many practices that would allow those under me to gain power, I had unwittingly created the conditions for my own end. Kaecillius isn't the first among those who have trained in the Mystic Arts who chafed under my tutelage. But none before him would have gone as far as he. The others focused on the rituals that I had forbidden in my 'great wisdom', but since I managed to defeat them all without dying, I foolishly hoped that I was right in my decisions, and that if I kept this up long enough, I could _still_ change my fate. But Kaecillius looked further back, to the practices that were forbidden before I even learned to make my first portal. In the end, it turned out that it wasn't any of my, oh so cleverly chosen practices that would be the instrument of my downfall, but the distance that they created with my acolytes which would push them to even older, and viler things instead. Kaecillius was right in his objections, even if he did not know the truth behind the matter. After all, what claim did I have to tell those below me which rules they should abide by, if I broke those same rules myself?"

As she trails off, I can feel her channeling energy to her forehead, causing a mark to appear there. But it isn't Dormammu's mark as I remember it from the movie. Instead of thin scratches in her skin, there were now thick marks that ran over them. I felt like I had seen similar linework before, but in ink instead of what appeared to be cuts in her skin.

"A seal?" I venture the moment that my mind thinks back to the Naruto anime that I saw so long ago.

"Thanks to your serum, I no longer need to draw energy from the dark dimension in order to sustain myself. I have cut off all possible lines of communication with the Great Enemy, and asked both Kaecillius and Mordo in designing and applying the seal. The ritual that I used shall remain forbidden, but the book that it is described in has now been updated with my own notes, a sincere apology and a dire warning. Together with the Masters of the other Sanctums, I have gone over all the rituals that I have forbidden during my time as the Ancient One, and Kaecillius is currently going through those that have been approved to be used again. Once he has done them all, which should take him a few years at least, I shall send him to you, since the Sanctums will have nothing to teach him then. You will need him harder than he will need the Sanctums. Pangborn is talented, but he is not on Kaecillius' level, and _clearly_ you require a more guiding hand in forces that you do not understand."

With that statement, the Ancient One drains the remainder of her tea, before placing the delicate china (which I definitely do not own) back onto the table, before rising to her feet.

"Now then, if you will excuse me, I have some matters regarding transportation to discuss with a certain God-"

"Wait!" I say as I stand up as well, causing the Master of the Mystic Arts to turn back towards me with a questioning expression.

"That's it? I fuck up and all I get is you coming over to keep me and Thor from fighting, and to tell me your backstory?" I ask incredulously.

I know that I should be grateful that I'm getting off this lightly (as powerful as I am, I do _not_ fancy battling the Ancient One in the middle of an Othrys which is void of Phineas' mind) and that the smart play here is to simply shut the hell up, accept my good fortune and hope the Ancient One hurries up getting her ass out of here.

But my paranoia (and slight guilt) can't accept things as they are. I _need_ to know why the Ancient One is acting like this.

"Do you understand _why_ I told you my backstory?"

"I guess in order to warn me of thinking better than others?"

"In a way. In trying to prevent my downfall, I caused it, and the reason I was foolish enough to attempt to prevent the future from happening in the way that I did was due to arrogance. Because I thought I was better than anyone. That Stone in your forehead is more dangerous than I am, Michael. Both to you _and_ to those around you. Now, had you enslaved the minds of these innocent people here, then I would have done everything in my not inconsiderable power to scatter your body-parts across a dozen dimensions, but I'll hold off on fighting you for now. Despite the fact that my chances of beating you dwindle the longer you remain on this path, I still hold out hope that you won't allow yourself to turn into a bigger monster than he who you are trying to defeat. Be careful of imposing your will on others, Hyperion, New Titan of the East River, lest you find your own will dominated as well. Not by the Stone, though you should be wary of that as well. But by your hunger for power."

Having said her piece, the Ancient One gives me a firm nod, before she swiftly stalks out of the room, leaving me to slowly drop back down in my seat again as I mull over her words.

It's only after a few minutes have gone by that I notice something is off, and it takes a few minutes more before I realize what it is:

The table is cleared, the china and tea gone as if they were never there.

* * *

With my relations with... well basically everyone (the Avengers and government, the Masters of the Mystic Arts, and my own workforce) being somewhat _tense_ , but controlled for now, I instead focus on something that I have been wanting to do ever since I woke up from the Xavier-seizure I had four days ago.

Actually, I have been wanting to do _this_ particular thing ever since the One Day War, but the motivation has changed. Where before I was simply interested in seeing if I could do it, netting me a pretty badass mount in the process, now it was merely a testing ground for the real deal: bringing back Sterns and Phineas.

Three days ago, after Thor left Othrys (thankfully taking a pouty Hulk with him) once Jane had shown him all the residential and recreational areas and the Ancient One had a lengthy discussion with him, I threw myself into the same research that I had done before I had attempted to gain control over the Mind Stone, now two weeks ago.

I spent the entire rest of the day, deep into the night practicing my burgeoning psychokinetic powers, focusing mainly on my telepathy. My telekinesis was still very weak and would take time to strengthen (though for some reason both my armor and weapons were really easy to move, probably due to the fact that they were spiritually attuned to me), but my telepathy had been growing even before I fully took hold of the Mind Stone. Othrys had several lab animals on site (not that they got used for the pretty big stuff, since those things usually ended up with _me_ as a guinea pig instead) and I spent hours on end using the Mind Stone to dominate their minds.

As expected, the brute force method was far easier to use and far more effective as well, allowing me full control over the animal after only a couple of seconds, depending on the size and intelligence of the animal. Once I felt that I had a handle on how to use the Mind Stone to boost my telepathy (or maybe more accurately, to guide the Mind Stone in doing what I wanted), I started on the next phase in my rescue plan: I started working on animals with a hive-mind.

Ants, wasps, shrimp and even a small colony of naked mole-rats (one of the only two species of vertebrae who operated like a hive-mind, the other being the non-naked mole-rat). Of course, the eusociality displayed in certain species of Earth was different than the one that the Chitauri possess (since they seem to operate within a larger, telepathically linked supermind of sorts), but it should give me an insight in how to deal with such mentalities.

And whhooooo boy, was it _weird_ when I took control over a quarter of a colony of ants. Not that it was difficult mind you, but _weird_ (like pretty much anything else related to the mental world as these past few weeks have taught me). I could feel the tiny pinpricks that represented the individual ants that I had taken control over. But I could also feel something larger pressing in on my mind, trying to get at the ants within my grasp: the hive mind of the colony. Of course it would be fitting to say that the rest of the hive sounded like a buzz in the back of my mind, but that wasn't the case, interestingly enough.

It felt more as if I was standing in a stream with a strong current. Not enough to wash me away (these are _ants_ we're talking about here) but definitely strong enough to be noticeable. The current got progressively stronger the more developed the animal. Taking the animals under my control away from the hivemind at first caused resistance, as if I was wading upstream (gonna stick with the water metaphor here, since even my advanced brain can't come up with a more accurate analogy for describing a human mind interacting with those of tiny animals through the use of a primordial piece of force placed in my helmet). Leading the animals further and further away caused the resistance to lessen (though the remainder of the hive got more and more agitated) until there was a snap and all the pull on my mind just... _disappeared_.

The connection to the hive-mind was cut.

Trying to return the mind-controlled animals to the hive resulted in them getting viciously attacked, so I quickly set them up in their own separate habitats instead. However, once I let go of my mental hold over the neatly ordered animals, they descended into confused chaos, without any apparent clue about what they were supposed to be doing without the pull of the hivemind directing them.

Taking my experiments into account, the Chitauri conveniently dying off all at once began to make a lot more sense. If their hivemind was far more sentient and connected than the social construct of a hive of ants or wasps, then the closing of the portal would be the equivalent of doing what I had just done to my test batch, but instead of merely transporting them to another part of the lab, chucking them with full force across the breath of the galaxy without any warning whatsoever, all in the span of a second.

Yeah, no wonder the mental backlash ended up frying all of their brains simultaneously.

Well... _almost_ all of them. For one brain still remained, perfectly preserved in time.

This was what the past few days of experimentation had led towards, me standing in front of the transparent dome that still held the frozen Leviathan which I had ridden into battle during the One Day War, an extremely worried (but loyal-minded) Pangborn standing beside me.

"Michael, are you sure about this? Shouldn't we wait for more testing? The last time you rushed an experiment that dealt with the mind-"

"I know Pangborn, and if the situation were any different, I would agree. Hell, I still agree. But I _have_ to try. We _need_ Soter back into Othrys to keep things running smoothly and I'm not letting Sterns become a vegetable, not when there's a chance that we can bring them back. Alright?"

"... alright."

And with that, Pangborn starts moving his arms in complex patterns, a bright glow of Eldritch energy coming to life in geometric shapes in front of them, interlocking and always moving. At the same time, I focus on the Mind Stone in my helmet and prepare all my willpower for what is to come.

This has to be done with absolutely perfect timing, but if I can pull it off then I _know_ I have mastered the Mind Stone sufficiently enough to attempt reaching Sam and Phineas.

"Now!"

At my call, the wizard slams his hands into the ground, the transparent dome covering the Leviathan shattering like glass. The exact second the time-freezing spell is lifted, the lone Chitauri-mount is rapidly dying, his brain incapable of dealing with the absence of a Hive Mind.

Which is why at the exact same moment a pulse of pure thought _slams_ into its primitive mind. I pour as much power as I dare into forming a mental connection between the Leviathan and me, trying to dominate the enslaved beast's mind as fast as possible.

Without the constant pull of the greater hive-mind, it will die, though thankfully not as fast as the rest of the Chitauri forces when the portal and nuke combo brutally severed their connection to the main force and their mother ships. In order to keep the Leviathan from dying, _I_ will become it's hive-mind instead.

Within moments, my mind has surrounded the weakened mind of the war mount completely, holding it so firmly it's almost suffocating it. I can feel the shattered part of its mind where there used to be a connection to the greater whole that it was a part of, and without hesitation I pour my mind into the gaps, forcefully creating a link between its mind and my own.

Impressions and vague memories slam into me, of moving weightlessly through the void of the universe, the sharp pain of soldiers deploying from my sides, the sting of an unfamiliar sun on my back as I wreck yet another city with my brethren, all themselves, all me, all part of the larger whole which is _us_.

Except, as I press into the mind of the trapped Leviathan, there is no more _us_.

There is merely _me_.

And with another push of my thoughts, this one powerful enough that the Mind Stone shines brilliantly upon my forehead, causing Pangborn to shield his eyes and turn away, a link is created between the Leviathan and me.

It's still weak, but no longer dying, and I can feel a thread of sorts going out from my own mind and connecting itself firmly to that of the gargantuan creature. Examining it causes a wholly different set of expressions and senses to wash over me, real-time feedback from what the beast under my control is experiencing, before I dim the connection.

It's there, and unless an outside force or great distance breaks it, it will remain there without effort from me, giving me the faintest of impressions at the back of my mind. Looking inwards into my own mindscape (a process which took me several hours of deep meditation to achieve before I took the Mind Stone, but now a mere matter of will and a few seconds of disorientation) I saw the Leviathan's body curling itself around the walls of my mental Othrys, it's rudimentary sense of self (in so far as that it had one) made 'real' inside my mindscape.

Yet another guardian to my thoughts.

Returning to the real world, I share my own feelings of pride and accomplishment through the link towards the Leviathan, and from the slight feedback I know that the animal has received them clearly. At my instruction to go to sleep, it slithers away from the grassy meadow that separates Othrys from the surrounding forest, sinking beneath the surface of the East River with very little sound for such a large creature. Focusing on its mind shows me that it has leisurely looped towards the entrance of the cave that leads to the garage, much like the underwater entrance to Syndrome's base in the Incredibles movie.

Damn. I wonder if the second one turned out to be any good.

Alright, new part to my Twelve Step Program (ha! what a hilariously naive name, child-me!): upon achieving omnipotence, find a way to view the Incredibles 2 movie. I have waited a combined _38 years_ goddamnit! I wanna see what powers Jack-Jack has!

"So... it worked, I take it? We won't have to worry about being swallowed whole during our sleep? Or when awake, for that matter?"

"Yeah Pangborn, it worked. It's fully under my control. As for the 'being swallowed whole' part... hmm, well I have thought that Susan seemed a bit... _hungry_ this morning."

"... You're an asshole. You know that, right?"

"Damn proud of it too, Jonathan. Proud of it too."

"Of course you are."

* * *

Given the pressure that was on me while I tried to dominate the mind of the Leviathan (looking back through the process, I suspected that if I had been even a second later in latching onto it's already fading mind, it would've been too far gone to have been of any use to me), reaching out to Sam was surprisingly... easy.

I simply leaned over his bed, grabbed ahold of his brightly burning mind, and basically shouted WAKE UP! as loudly as I could. After experiencing a smack to the face (which hurt Sam more than it did me) as well as a slight deja-vu ("Back! Back I say! I know karate!") I let out a relieved breath, looking with a smile at my eggheaded friend who looked around the hospital wing in confusion, squinting his sensitive eyes against the bright eyes overhead.

"It's good to have you back Sam." I said sincerely, causing Sterns' eyes to snap towards me (which immediately worsened his headache, if his pained groan was anything to go by).

After catching his breath, he leant back into the large fluffy pillow of the hospital bed with his eyes drooping closed.

"It's good to _be_ back, Michael. _God_ knows the world is absolutely fucked if I remained asleep for any length of time. You need me." he says, slurring his speech slightly, though he has a dopey grin on his face.

Seeing him lying in the hospital bed like that, due to _my_ rookie mistake (after all, doesn't the Overlord List teach us _not_ to consume an energy source larger than our head?) simply ramps up my feelings of guilt, so with a small, genuine smile I place my enormous hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Swat... I szaid... _doofus_ " he replies with a grin, happily snoring away the moment he slurs his last word.

* * *

Phineas was a bit more difficult to awaken. Whereas Sterns was merely in a very deep sleep, with his mind still present and accessible, Phineas had completely withdrawn to within the confines of his silicone shell. It would mean that I had to bridge a lot more 'distance' (for as much as conventional dimensions exist in the mental world), but it would also mean that Phineas' mind would be a lot more compact, and thus, denser than Sterns had been.

If he ever finds out that I called him dense in comparison to Sterns, I'll never live it down.

In order to not overwhelm him, I took out his brain from his pedestal, cradling it in my hands as I pushed my mind against his. It took quite a lot of time before I noticed a reaction from him to my presence, but as expected, he merely tried to shy away further from me, clearly thinking this to be part of the original mental attack.

Without any way to directly communicate with him, I instead approached him and backed away in short, rapid patterns, hoping that he would pick up on the Morse Code that I was sending him.

It was a short message: _it's me_.

I only had to repeat it two times before I could feel/see Phineas' mind start pulsing as well, though he remained within the confines of his own mind. Parsing his message was easy enough, though somewhat annoying.

 _'Who is me?'_

 _'Michael.'_

 _'How do I know?'_

 _'What?'_

 _'How do I know it's Michael?'_

 _'... who else could it possibly be?'_

 _'You could be that Stone, trying to trick me.'_

 _'If I was the Stone, then **why** would I even bother tricking you?'_

 _'Because you're a primordial piece of unimaginably powerful force. Maybe you like tricking people.'_

 _'For fuck's sakes Phineas! I'm not the Stone, I'm **me**! Michael! I control the Stone now, not the other way around!'_

 _'Which is exactly the kind of thing that a sneaky mind controlling primordial piece of unimaginably powerful force would say.'_

 _'Oh for the love of... looking, pulsating back and forth like this in Morse Code is giving me a serious headache, I look like a horny rabbit on a cocktail of Viagra, heroin and whatever the hell is keeping Keith Richards alive, so here's my solution: you ask me a question that only the **real** Michael would know. I get it right, I'm Michael, and you come back to us, I get it wrong and... you stay here, I suppose.'_

 _'Alright. But how do I think of the question?'_

 _'... what.'_

 _'Well, think about it! It can't be too easy, or something well-known about me, or the primordial piece of unimaginably powerful force will eat my mind. But I can't make it too **hard** either, or you'll guess wrong and I'll be stuck here, possibly turning away Michael instead of a malevolent primordial piece of unimaginably powerful force.'_

 _'... your biggest dream is having sex with Lucy Lawless.'_

 _'... alright, you're Michael.'_

After returning to the real world (with my head spinning at the speed the two of us were signaling to each other) I grumpily placed Phineas back into his pedestal. As when he first awakened there, the entire thing started to light up, before a hologram of the Tinkerer was projected above it. He had the decency to have his hologram blush when he looked at my annoyed expression at least.

"Give me three-, no give me _two_ days and I'll have Othrys back up and running to the beautiful piece of orchestrated machinery and programming that she was before, even if I do say so myself. I tell you what, just sitting around with nothing to do but _think_ for nearly two years has given me a lot of ideas!"

"Phineas..."

"Yes Michael?"

"... nevermind, you'll find out. Best of luck in... whatever it is you're going to do to my base. I'm going to take the most powerful aspirin that I can find and going to bed. Wake me when the apocalypse happens. Or not."

"... sure? Bye Michael!"

* * *

It had been three days since I had brought back Sterns and Phineas, to general good cheer of the rest of Othrys who had genuinely missed the two and who had worried for their wellbeing. Returning them to consciousness, without any apparent lasting effects (though I would keep my eye on Phineas, just in case. Isolation can make people go... _weird_ ) had bought me a _lot_ of goodwill with the rest of my forces.

Combined with my subtle manipulation using the Mind Stone, and I didn't have to fear sedition within my forces anytime soon.

For now, I put all of that out of my mind however. Instead, I peeked from under the heavy grey cloak I wore to Sterns, who was dressed in equally concealing clothing as I was and sitting next to me. Where I planned on going, it paid not to stand out too much, and as much as I loved the Aurelion Armor, it wasn't exactly... _subtle_.

Seeing a massive grin on my friend's face, fully rested and healthy after his three day rest-period, which he kept insisting was two days too long. It had gotten to the point that Hansen had physically slung him over her shoulder when she caught him escaping yet _again_ , carried him back to the hospital wing, plopped him down into one of the beds, and then placed a large flower with virulent pink petals on his dresser. Nobody knew what the plant was supposed to do, but there were bets about what horrible injuries it would inflict on Sterns, ranging from the traditional teeth and fire, to the more exotic ones, like growing long vines and forcing him to hit himself over and over again. I personally put forward the possibility that it would grow into an enormous Swampthing-like plant creature and use Sterns as compost.

Hansen didn't reveal its function either way, though the sugary sweet smile that came to her face whenever someone asked about it cause many to blanch in fear and feel a shiver crawl up their spine.

Sterns stayed in his bed after that.

But now he was fully healed, with Hansen grudgingly discharging him from the hospital wing, and now we could _finally_ embark on a journey that I had honestly wanted to make almost two years ago.

Turning in my seat to look out the window screen in front of me, I couldn't quite contain a grin from growing on my face.

"Remember Sterns, 88 mph is the ticket."

From the corner of my vision, I can see him look at me in surprise, before he gives a small chuckle, turning the key in the ignition. With a keening hum, Oliver comes alive, his hyper-modern dashboard giving off a familiar hauntingly blue glow.

"I shall try."

"No. Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try."

"Of course. Hopefully, we'll be back."

"As long as there's no trap!"

"If there is, Oliver can always beam us up!"

"All things that will only become a concern once we have boldly gone where-"

"If the two of you are _quite_ done with geeking out?" came Radcliffe's voice from outside the Tesseract powered truck, though the humor in his tone was unmistakable, a quick glance confirming that the man was struggling to hold back a grin as he rubbed his ribs, an eye-rolling Agnes standing next to him.

We were all standing in the large underground garage on the opposite end of where Othrys was located on the Island. Sterns and I were sitting inside the souped-up vehicle, while most of my Think-Tank as well as most of my workforce were looking on from a safe distance. Putting on our game faces, Sterns and I gave the chuckling Radcliffe a serious nod, before beginning our launch sequence.

"This is Oliver to Othrys, do you read Othrys?" Sterns asked calmly over the comms.

"This is Othrys, reading you loud and clear Oliver."

"Request for opening the bay doors."

"Roger that Oliver, bay doors opened."

With a rumble of the Earth, the two hangar doors in the ceiling over the cave started to part, allowing rays of sun and quite a bit of dirt to fall down into the underground garage below.

"Request for full vertical launch-position for Pad 1-C, designation Oliver."

"Roger that, full vertical launch for 1-C."

A hiss of hydraulics was the only warning we got before the entire part of the floor where Oliver stood started to move, rapidly tilting upwards, robotic arms coming up from the sides in order to keep Oliver in place, acting much like the scaffolding around rockets and space shuttles. When we were fully vertical, pressed into the backs of our seat, Sterns spoke up again.

What followed was a long list of check-ups, involving fuel (which wasn't exactly applicable since the Tesseract gave off infinite fuel according to all systems) and whether the arms would release in time, whether the garage was cleared of objects and personnel (all the other vehicles were shrunk and safely stored in my desk in Othrys) and so on and so forth.

After nearly twenty minutes, we came to the final part of the countdown.

"Oliver, you're go for launch."

"This is Oliver, we will start ignition in T minus one."

"Roger that Oliver, ignition in T minus 56."

That minute might have been the longest in either one of my lives, sitting there in silence as I stared up at the empty sky far above me. I just kept thinking about things that might go wrong. The leviathan was shrunk down to the size of a gargantuan boa constrictor and was resting in the trailer, meaning that it wouldn't die when I suddenly found myself in a different stellar system. I knew that flying through New York City in Oliver (even if it was merely straight up in order to reach the atmosphere) could get me in a lot of trouble, which why I had informed Jeri a week before that this was going to happen, and she had been prepping City Council as well as the U.S. Government and the UN in order to assure that I wouldn't get shot down (though nobody was exactly happy with the situation, though UNOOSA was on my side at least).

And then I was drawn from my musings because the countdown was about to end.

"5..."

"4..."

"3..."

"2..."

"1..."

"Liftoff."

And with that, Sterns pressed a button on the dashboard, and a violent shudder ran through Oliver. The whine from the monstrosity that Sterns and Selvig had built around the Tesseract and which now passed as Oliver's engine increased tenfold, nearly rattling my teeth around in my skull.

A giant seemed to punch me in my chest as I was pressed even further back into my seat (briefly I felt confusion and a hint of panic coming from the Leviathan, so I tried to send it calming thoughts), our surroundings quickly falling away. Struggling against the immense G-Forces (both me and Sterns were in our respective armors underneath the concealing cloaks, so our internal organs _should_ be fine) I turned to look out the window, slightly stunned when I saw the whole of New York spread across the land below me.

The enormous city was rapidly shrinking, while the air around us started to darken. Soon, the earth began to curve at the edges, whereas the blue sky turned a deep indigo color. And still we kept madly accelerating, trying to escape the pull of the Earth. Not even a minute later, I could make out the entire continent of North-America, the enormous landmass filling my vision. Two minutes after that, the entire continent was within view, surrounded on all sides by the most beautiful blue I had ever seen.

Turning away from the breathtaking planet below me, I instead looked out towards the sky. There was no color at all now, just an endless black. A halo of bright light, too bright to look in its general direction, sat off to our far left, like an enormous flashlight, bathing us in the rays of the sun. I could feel Sterns activating thrusters on Oliver's side, and we turned away from the sun until our backs were towards it. Instead, we now looked out into the vast openness of space, more stars than I had ever seen in my life visible across the vast expanse of the universe.

For a moment, neither I nor Sterns say a word, just taking in the mesmerizing view. When I speak, it's in a soft, almost respectful voice.

"Sterns. Take us out."

"Very good, sir." My friend replies in the same tone, before reaching down to the enormous lever at his side.

With a grin and a gleam in his eyes, Sterns slams the handle forwards, causing a sudden change in pitch from the Tesseract. And without warning, our world dissolves in various shades of blue, all that we can comprehend is the sensation of immeasurable speed, as well as undefinable sense of dimensions.

Space and distance, the passage of time... wherever we are, those things are meaningless now.

However, not even a second later (or is it an eternity... it's hard to tell...) the screaming streaks of blue break up, and instead of hanging serenely outside of Earth's atmosphere, we're _bursting_ through what appear to be mountains of metal. I can see Sterns slamming on the brakes out of the corner of my eye, and we come to a stop surprisingly soon, considering the frankly _insane_ speed which we came out of the... portal, I'm guessing?

Looking in the rear-view mirror, I see a ten-mile long track of burned ground and flaming debris in our wake, a testament to our breaking of one of the fundamental laws of the universe. Despite having smashed apart small mountains of trash at speeds that defy all common notions of science and how the world is supposed to work, Oliver is remarkably intact.

Sure, the paint is going to need a little rework, but as far as I can tell, there's no structural damage. Which of course was the first thing that Sterns focused on, giving a relieved sigh when Oliver gave him the all green sign (a little thumbs-up next to the speedometer, I notice to my amusement). Only then did he look out the window, his mouth falling open at the mounds of futuristic crap that we are surrounded with, his eyes drawn to the definitely _alien_ looking high-rises that we can spot on the horizon.

"What is this place?"

"This, my friend, is the home of all lost things in the Galaxy."

"... that... that doesn't clear anything up. Like, at _all_."

"Sam. Welcome to Sakaar!"

...

...

...

"... yeah, look. I can tell that _you_ think that explains stuff, but I'm still lost here."

/

 **Fun Fact:** As a gift, Marvel Studios gave Iron Man actor Robert Downey, Jr. the 30-foot-tall "A" seen hanging on the side of Stark Tower in the final shot of The Avengers.

 **AN:** I knew I said I would get this out yesterday. The thing is, while this was (mostly) _finished_ yesterday, I couldn't publish because I was forced to restore my pc to factory settings. I only managed to get everything up and running again today, and while I thankfully haven't lost (most of) my files due to saving them on a cloud, I have still lost my Office, which I can't re-install at the moment. As such, the rewrite of this chapter was done in WordPad, which does not seem to have spellchecker (if it does, please let me know!). As a result, this chapter is just rife with spelling errors, which I intend to rectify the moment I have Word installed again. Sorry about that.

 _As awlays, major shout out to my amazing Patrons, Miu, justlovereadin, Carn Krauss, ReapeScythe, Thordur hrafn, Daniel Dorfman, Fakhrurrozi and Samuel Carson! I cannot thank you guys enough for willing to support me as you do, so thanks again!_


	40. Are you not entertained!

_**Are you not entertained?!**_

* * *

Since our rather… _volatile_ entrance had likely been noticed, either by the "authorities" or by slavers (sadly, not all that much of a difference on this planet), I first asked Sterns to take us somewhere safe and out of sight before I explained to him where we were, and why we were here.

After the egghead pressed yet another button on Oliver's dashboard, the hills of trash around us turned into literal mountains in a flash, individual parts of machinery now larger than our truck. The change was so jarring and unexpected, it took me a second or two to realize that Sterns had shrunk us with Cross Tech, and we were now blasting away from our still smoking entry point, flitting through the space junk like a particularly speedy gnat.

After about five minutes of tailing it out of there (good thing too, because not even two minutes after we left, three different ships descended from the skies to check out the burning stretch of land) Sterns steered us into what seemed to be an engine block of some sort, which was sticking out of the remaining half of a spaceship (it was unclear what exactly had happened to the rest of the ship, but the enormous teeth-marks on the edges of the wreck gave us a few clues).

Setting Oliver down in one of the myriad of interconnected pipes, Sterns killed the "engine" and turned towards me with an expectant look on his face. It didn't take me long to explain to him that Sakaar was the trash-heap of the universe. Everything that was lost of forgotten would eventually make their way to this planet through the one of the many portals dotting the sky (it was probably where all those missing socks ended up, come to think of it. Perhaps every washer was secretly connected to a Sakaar portal?). Since we didn't know the exact location of any of the important planets like Xandar, we also didn't have anywhere to jump towards, hence why we ended up on Sakaar as well. The good part was that (hopefully) Sakaar had at least some knowledge on the rest of the universe, which would allow us to travel to larger hubs of galactic civilization, and gather more information from there.

Plus, of course, the possible hidden treasures within the trash heaps covering the majority of this custom built planet (both machinery as well as alien biology).

So, the plan was simple. Sterns and I would travel to the capital (it wasn't exactly difficult to miss) as inconspicuously as possible, find whatever passed for a library on this planet and then jump to a better staging area once we had the proper coordinates. In the meantime, Oliver would return to the wastes here, and start collecting data on everything and anything that came within reach of his array of sensors.

Hopefully, he'd stumble across something nice, but if he didn't then it wasn't a big loss.

In order to keep us under the radar, Sterns steered Oliver to the edge of the engine block we were hiding in, just far enough so that the truck could start scanning the vehicles flying overhead. After about fifteen minutes of this (during which about thirty ships must have passed us, varying widely in shapes and sizes), Oliver had collected enough data to layer himself in a holographic mock-up of one of the slaver ships that had passed overhead, though with slight modifications so as to avoid any possible issues of mistaken identity.

Disguise in place, Sterns waited until nobody was near us, before taking Oliver to the skies and quickly enlarging him back to his usual size, the holographic cover making us appear like one of the dozens of non-descript ships flying through the skies. Steering towards the capital, we took off, approaching our first major hub of alien civilization.

* * *

As it turned out, alien cities aren't really all that different from Earth cities. Sure, the architecture is different (though since Titan Solutions is rebuilding large parts of Manhattan, with Stark Industries picking up the slack, that might not be the case for much longer) and sure, we don't have flying cars (yet) and sure, the amount of non- or large humanoids is _slightly_ higher here than back on Earth.

But on the whole?

Both are noisy, colorful and _far_ too crowded for my tastes. Beggars line the streets, poverty trying to find shelter in the shadows cast by the high-rises of the wealthy. People are either hurrying past, caught up in their own lives and not giving a damn about yours, or they actively seek out to take advantage of you (within seconds of approaching the city limits, we were assaulted by dozens of ratty looking youngsters, who were clamoring to us that they could give us a safe parking spot, at a reasonable fee, and window cleaning thrown in to sweeten the deal).

A good example of both the startling differences as well as similarities between Earth and an alien civilization like Sakaar, were the advertisements. Just like on Earth, they were _annoying_ and they were _everywhere_ , aggressively getting up in your face and trying to force you to buy into their sales pitch. It wasn't the _format_ of the advertisements that was different (after all, I (or rather, Hogarth) had already begun producing holographic billboards for the Asian markets), but _what_ they promoted.

On Earth, ads could promote anything from cars to diapers. On Sakaar though, they only promoted a single thing.

"AAAAAARRRREEEE YOOOOUUUUU REEEEEEAAAADDDDDYYYYYYYY?! WE HAVE SEEN HIM BEATEN! WE HAVE SEEN HIM BLOODIED! AND WE! HAVE! SEEN! HIM! _TRIIIIIIIIUUUUUUUUUMPPPH!_ NOW, WATCH AS HE IS READY TO TAKE ON HIS NEXT FOE! HAILING FROM THE SHADOWY DEPTHS OF THE MAW CLUSTER, FEAST YOUR EYES ON THE BEAST THAT ALWAYS HUNGERS, THE SCOURGE OF SPACE, THE MALEVOLENCE THAT DOES NOT SLEEP! STAND AND TREMBLE, BEFORE THE _KHARADAR_!"

Sterns and I (still hidden under our cloaks) stood silently side by side at the edges of a small crowd, my large size and his oversized head not even drawing a second glace from those around us. All of us were staring up at an enormous projection, about the size of a large yacht, the roaring voice of an unseen announcer ringing in our ears. Displayed on the screen was a familiar arena, an overhead camera doing sweeping loops around the crowded stands and bloodied sands, before focusing on one of the gates. A mass of whirling shadows, teeth and baleful yellow eyes could be seen from behind the bars, the roar of the people in the stands (and those surrounding us in the crowd) growing even louder.

"WILL THE CHAMPION BE VICTORIOUS ONCE AGAIN?! OR WILL THE KHARADAR FEAST ON HIS GUTS?! FIND OUT TONIGHT! TICKETS ARE NEARLY SOLD OUT, GET YOURS NOW, OR USE YOUR PREMIUM SUBSCRIPTION ACCOUNT TO FOLLOW THE FIGHT _LIVE_! Anyonefoundtopiratethebroadcastandsellcopiesofthefightshallbeliquefied, thank you."

And with that, the ad came to an end, the hologram turning to a bland screensaver of twisting lights, before another ad began, this one promoting a fight this afternoon for a smaller league. All around us, various aliens (most of them humanoid, _all_ of them tattooed with typical Sakaarian geometric patterns) were chattering excitedly to each other as the crowd slowly began to disperse.

For a moment, both Sterns and I stand silently looking towards the enormous screen, before he turns towards me with a flat expression on his face.

"I have some questions."

"Yeah, I imagine you would have. Go ahead, ask away." I grunt in response as I turn and start making my way deeper into the center of the city, where I hope to find a library of some sorts, Sterns falling into step besides me.

I'm distracted though, only half-listening to Sterns' questions and replying to them on auto-pilot as my mind keeps replaying the footage I have just seen. Because I now know who the current Champion of the Grandmaster is.

And he can prove to be _very_ useful indeed.

"Alright, first off, what the hell was that all about?"

"An ad promoting a gladiator fight."

"These people still have gladiator fights?"

"The leader of the planet is a big fan. It's how this economy works: people end up stranded here, slavers capture them, sell them to the arena where they fight until they die, while the people who sold them pay whatever the Grandmaster gave them for his new toys in order to watch the fight, essentially returning the man's money to him. It ain't a pretty system, but it seems to work out. For the Grandmaster, at least."

"Damn."

"Yeah."

"That's messed up."

"Yeah."

"Are we going to do something about it?"

"… you know what? We just might."

"Ah, good. Good. Final question."

"Go ahead."

"How the hell are all these people speaking English, and yet have vastly different writings?"

"Universal translators. They're supposed to be pretty common, actually. Meaning that everyone is just talking in their own language, but everybody else hears them speak in _their_ own native language. The writing is either Sakaarian, or some Galactic Basic." I explain, perfectly recalling all the Reddit pages dedicated to this very subject which I had trawled through for fun so very long ago.

"Though if we want any real answers, then I think we'll have to look in here." I continue, coming to a halt in front of a squat looking building, covered in a dull green paintjob and relatively little decorative linework compared to the surrounding skyscrapers.

"Why's that?" Sterns asks, coming to a halt besides me and looking the building up and down with a critical eye.

"Because I think this is the library. Or whatever the hell the alien equivalent of a library is supposed to be."

"And what makes you think that?"

"It looks barely used."

"… fair enough."

* * *

Fortunately, it _was_ the alien equivalent of a library (they just called it the databanks instead). _Un_ fortunately, it was the alien equivalent of a _public_ library.

What this meant, was that we had access to some of the broader, common stuff, like a brief history of Sakaar (which was almost word for word the same as the intro video that Thor got when he was taken to the Grandmaster) and a _long_ list of all the previous Champions, as well as some local maps which included some rough outlines of the turfs of various established gangs, though the territory lines tended to shift almost continuously. However, we _didn't_ have access to anything higher-level than that.

Which included the coordinates to other planets in the galaxy.

It made sense in a way. Getting to Sakaar was easy. Getting _out_ was the hard part. Yet there didn't seem to be an active guard surrounding the various portals, keeping the people stranded on Sakaar. It would make sense for the Grandmaster to keep any galactic maps to himself: after all, you don't have to guard a prison if nobody even knows the way out.

The portals _could_ be traversed, but without proper coordinates, or an exceptionally long and near-perfect memory (say, like Asgardians possess), most people here with access to a ship probably thought that it was far too risky and decided to stick to what they knew instead.

It seemed that we would need to get our intel from a little higher up the totem pole of Sakaarian hierarchy.

I told Sterns to data-mine everything here that he thought might be useful, and after giving me a nod, he snuck one of his six robotic arms from underneath the hem of his wide cloak, plugged it into the terminal, and started downloading everything that could be of use to us.

Meanwhile I sunk deep into thought, idea's flashing before my mind's eye and being dismissed just as fast as I thought on my different goals on this planet and the apparent obstacles.

By the time Sterns had finished, I had a rough idea in place. I tapped my friend on the shoulder before leaning in, asking him in a low voice about Oliver.

"He's still out there, scanning the debris. He hasn't been spotted."

"Good. Has he found anything of value?"

"That's the problem. We wouldn't know what is or isn't of value. I had him scan for rare metals, and he checked back in with me about half an hour ago, having found enough materials to make an oil tanker out of. So yeah, the things we would find 'exotic' back on Earth are abundant enough here that we would crash the market if we brought too much of it back with us, and it's probably not worth all that much to the rest of the galaxy. If there's anything of value in there, then we would first need to know what the aliens consider valuable before we can even go looking for it."

"Fine. Tell Oliver to start collecting small amounts of as large a variety of metals as he can manage. Just enough to make a nice profit, but not enough to oversaturate the market. I have someone in mind who can tell us more about the valuables of the galaxy, once we've visited him, we can turn our attention back towards Sakaar's trash heaps. In the meantime, also instruct him to pick up any tech that's still working or seems salvageable. It might not be on the same level as the Kree, or perhaps even the Chitauri, but the more alien tech we reverse engineer, the easier it will be to crack the Blue Angels' secrets."

"Sure thing, Michael. Though I have to warn you not to get your hopes up: Sakaar really _is_ a giant trash-heap. We'll be lucky if even 10% of all this space-junk turns out to be salvageable tech."

"Considering the risk is close to zero, I think I'll take those odds Sam."

"Your call, boss."

And with that, the scientist turns back towards his terminal, though he places one gloved hand against the side of his helmet, quickly sending Oliver new instructions.

Or just saying 'hi' to him.

With Sterns, it's hard to tell.

The worrying part is that with Oliver, it's hard to tell whether or not he's capable of saying 'hi' back.

So yeah, until I find out whether or not Sterns' vehicle is sentient or not, I'm not going to call Oliver an _it_ , just in case the truck takes offence and we have a SkyNet scenario on our hands.

While my friend is learning all he can from the limited amounts of data in Sakaar's public library, I keep mulling over my plans, discarding and adding parts now that I know that immediate trade for materials between Sakaar and Earth (or rather, Sakaar and _Othrys_ )might not be as lucrative as I had hoped for it to be.

So, an alliance with the Grandmaster has just dropped in potential benefits and usefulness, since the materials that he can provide are too common in the galaxy to be of any (monetary) use, while it's nearly impossible to resell them to Earth in bulk, since that would cause their value to drop immediately.

But I _do_ need access to his systems if I want to make a targeted jump towards specific planets, instead of simply taking my chances travelling up the Devil's Anus and hoping to whatever deity is on my side that it doesn't end up dropping me in a black hole.

Meaning I have two paths before me now: either I can side with the Grandmaster, or go against him. The second option might be the riskier option, because even though, between me, Sterns and Oliver, our little group has a staggering amount of firepower, the Grandmaster still has an entire planet worth of forces.

Sure, Thor managed to get out, but he had a fellow Asgardian (a trusted employee of the Grandmaster who betrayed the immortal dictator) and a Jotun (God of Trickery and General Slipperiness) on his side.

On top of that, the Revengers merely wanted to get out as fast as possible. If I go the second route, then I'll actively be trying to get _in_ , hack the systems, and _then_ leave, all the while facing the Grandmaster's security forces (not to mention, one of the Revengers as well).

So the second option would only work if I followed the Revengers' example and incited a slave rebellion and use the ensuing chaos to get away unnoticed with the intel that I wanted (pretty much the same tactic that I had used in my earliest Steps when I was still a squishy human, come to think about it).

Now, why was I entertaining the second notion at all, instead of the far less work-intensive first option? Like I said, the ad promoting the fight tonight between the so-called Kharadar and the Champion had briefly shown me just who said fighter was, and ever since, I had been thinking about his possible usefulness to me.

After all, Beta-Ray Bill, Protector of the Korbinites, Slayer of Surtur's host in the Burning Galaxy, could prove to be a worthy ally indeed.

* * *

Due to the time dilation between Sakaar and the rest of the universe (Loki had been kicked out of the Bifrost by Hela only a few moments before Thor, yet had spent around two weeks on this planet before his brother arrived), I decided to take my time and not make a hasty decision. With Oliver still scouring the vast mountain ranges of interstellar trash unnoticed (it's amazing what being the size of a Hot Wheels toy will do for your stealth), collecting data and valuable materials, I decided to go see the match tonight.

Since my decision on how I would deal with the Grandmaster would largely depend on whether or not I could turn Beta-Ray Bill into my ally, I figured that I should see with my own eyes if the cybernetic alien lived up to his reputation before committing to either course of action.

Of course, lacking any interstellar currency (which are simply called 'units') we couldn't exactly buy tickets, so we… didn't. About twenty minutes before the fight was about to start, I grabbed Sterns and flew us to the top of the enormous arena, where I stealthily set us down on the outer ramparts (Sterns could have flown himself of course, but that would require him to use the thrusters in his armor, which might have drawn unwanted attention to us).

After that, it was a simple case of making our way to the back of the outer stands, our heavy cloaks (made from a mesh with camouflaging abilities, which I already had sold to the U.S., Russian, Chinese and Turkish military for criminally large sums of money) allowing us to easily blend in with the dark stone.

The few times that a guard or a spectator wandered a bit too close to our position, they would suddenly and inexplicably feel the need to be somewhere else instead, yet without questioning their sudden change of mind, leaving me and Sterns to watch the match in peace.

Far below and on the opposite end of the ring, the box of the Grandmaster could be seen, Jeff Goldblum strutting around in all his uhming and ahwing glory. The box was probably the only thing in the arena that was clean, its pristine golden and white appearance a clear divide between the opulence of the Grandmaster's personal world of wealth and entertainment, and the cobbled together appearance of the poor of Sakaar (which was basically everyone else).

Jeff seemed to laugh at something someone said in his box, before he turned to the howling and baying crowds, his arms splayed wide and a massive grin on his face.

"Ladies! Ladies and uhh… gentle… beings. Welcome! Tonight… I give you… my _beloved_ Champion, I mean, he really is, he is such a wonderful being, I really am quite fond of him… _my_ Champion… BETA! RAY! BILL!" the Grandmaster laughed, one arm clad in a wide glimmering sleeve thrust to one of the doors of the arena.

Intrigued, I leaned forwards a bit, my helmet easily zooming in as the great gate was lifted, and a figure could be seen standing in the shadows behind it. It slowly began walking forwards, until it left the shade, the harsh lights of the arena brightly illuminating his ochre-skin. Beta-Ray Bill, the equal to Thor, stood tall upon the sands of Sakaar's arena, clad in simple armor, a thick shield on one arm, a spear in the other hand, and what looked like the bastard offspring of a baton and a cattle prod slung on his back.

A helmet covered his elongated face, but his fierce scowl was easy to see to all. The spectators didn't seem to be turned off from his severe expression however, their stamping and roaring increasing even more in intensity.

As zoomed in as my helmet was, I caught the distasteful sneer that the Korbinite sent towards the Grandmaster's box. Following his glare, I saw Jeff Goldblum grin down at his cybernetic champion, widely gesturing his hands and tilting his head in the universal 'Come on! Get _on_ with it!' motions.

If possible, Bill's scowl deepened even further. Then, he briefly closed his eyes in pained acceptance, before he tilted his head back, thrust his weapons into the air and unleashed a mighty roar that could easily rival either Susan or the Hulk in sheer power and savagery.

It was still nothing compared to the combined roaring of the thousands of aliens that went completely apeshit at the Korbinite's small display of showmanship (forced as it may be), waving their banners in a frenzy, stomping their feet hard enough to shake the entire structure surrounding the pit far below.

"Hehehe… yes, yes… he is… uhh… isn't he wonderful people? Yes, yes I know… … … _however_! We haven't, uhm, we haven't gotten together here to just… to just, uhm, _look_ , you know? Haven't we? No, we haven't! We came to watch a _fight_!"

As the crowd roared their agreement, the Grandmaster simply chuckled in response, as if someone just told him a funny joke, while far below, Beta-Ray Bill slid into a guarded stance, shield in front of his torso, spear at the ready.

"Bill's opponent…! Is, uhhh… It is a… uhm… Topaz, be a dear, and remind me what it was called again?"

"Kharadar, sir. Beast that Always Hungers. Scourge of Space. The Malevolence that Does Not Sleep." A gruff voice bit out.

"Really? Huh… quite a mouthful, isn't it?"

"If you say so sir."

"Alright, very well. Tonight! Bill will fight… the Kharadar-thingie! Enjoy!" Jeff called out with a wide smile, clapping his hands together.

Almost immediately following his words, a shudder went through the arena as on the opposite end of Bill's entrance, the second gate was slowly lifted, the heavy blast-shields folding away into the walls. As the last of the doors fell away, the roaring of the crowd died down to silent whispers, everyone gazing at the pitch-black darkness with baited breath (including Sterns and I as well, to be honest).

Bill merely narrowed his eyes, and lifted his spear a bit higher.

Slowly, one by one, nearly a dozen yellow eyes lit up in the darkness, and a deep growl started to rumble across the sands.

For a moment, gladiator and beast merely locked gazes with each other, the air thick with the tension of the upcoming battle. Then, on some sudden, unseen signal, the Kharadar gave a hateful roar and burst out of the shadows, a whirling mass of tentacles, teeth and death.

It moved so fast, even I had trouble with fully taking in its bizarre form. It reminded me somewhat of the Abilisk the Guardians fought for the Soevereign, but… _flatter_ , somehow. The Kharadar had less body, longer tentacles, and no real head to speak of. Instead, multiple large, lamprey-like mouths were placed along various points of its pitch-black, sinuous body, large eyes littering the spaces in between.

One leathery tentacle lashed out, and with reflexes that equaled my own, Bill managed to catch the blow on his shield, though he was shoved back several feet through the loose sands. Within the whirling mass of his opponent, I saw muscles tense and flex, and already knew what was about to come.

Either through his Korbinite physiology, cybernetic enhancements, or just plain raw battle instinct, Bill anticipated the creature's next move as well, shifting his stance to brace himself against the ground, keeping his spear low and shield high.

And not a moment too soon, because only seconds on the heels of the first blow, the Kharadar struck again, this time with a different tentacle. And it struck again. And again. And _again_. Each blow came from a different part of its main body, its course unpredictable, its speed sufficient to whip up the sands in its wake.

However, against the seasoned fighter, all they managed to do was push the Korbinite back with each strike, damaging his shield further and further, sparks flying whenever flesh met steel. Fed up with its prey continued survival, the Kharadar surged forwards, lifting up a majority of its many tentacles, along with the front end of its main body.

Beta-Ray Bill proved to be ready, however, raising his battered shield high above his head, just as five tentacles as thick as my arm slammed down on top of him, a cloud of sand blasting out from the impact. The orange-skinned alien buckled underneath the onslaught, but managed to keep his shield raised, keeping the Kharadar from crushing him into a paste. Letting out a roar that drowned out the many shrieks of the Kharadar, Bill straightened, pushing the tentacles even further upwards and thus exposing part of the monster's… belly, I suppose.

Not wasting a moment, Bill twisted, thrusting his spear forwards in a single, brutal movement, burying the metal tip (and much of the shaft as well) deep into the Kharadar's underside, spilling purplish blood. The creature screamed in pain, its many tentacles writhing with agony, but Bill's attack had also given it an opportunity. One arm raised high in order to lift his shield, the other stretched out in order to attack with his spear meant that Bill had no defense on his sides, and the monster was quick to exploit this.

A thick tentacle slammed into Bill's side, lifting the Korbinite Champion clear off his feet and sending him sailing across the length of the arena, making him crash into the ground with a painful sounding smack. Bill wasn't a fool, and immediately tried to get back to his feet, knowing that in the arena, standing still equaled getting dead. But the Kharadar, angered and in pain, wasn't going to let the one who hurt it so badly get away, and it was already upon Bill when the Korbinite had been forced to eat dirt.

The gladiator only had enough time to once again lift his battered shield, managing to block the first set of rapid fire strikes from the monster before it switched tactics. A heavy tentacle once again slammed into the twisted metal of Bill's shield, but instead of being batted away like all previous strikes, this time the Kharadar pressed on, the thick, sinuous flesh slithering across the shield and onto Bill's arm, much like a snake constricting its prey. There was a sickening crack that rang throughout the arena, making itself heard even amongst the din of excited shouting coming from the stands, and with a heave, Bill was once again thrown through the air, but straight upwards this time, instead of across the grounds.

As his momentum came to a halt, my eyes locked onto Bill's suspended form, time seemingly slowing down to a crawl. I saw the Kharadar jumping up after its prey, various mouths opened wide in order to devour the Korbinite when he came down again, the previously whirling tentacles now almost appearing as seaweed, gently swaying in an unseen current.

In that single moment, things seemed hopeless for the battered Beta-Ray Bill. His shield had been flung away from him, and even if it hadn't, it would have been quite useless at this point, appearing more like a post-modern art piece than a functional shield. Even wielding it would've been difficult for the gladiator, since his shield arm looked broken, or at the very least dislocated. The heavy strike to the side of his torso certainly hadn't done him any favors as well, the armor covering his body heavily dented and probably hampering his breathing (if he even had lungs, that is. From what I remember about him from the comics, his cybernetics were quite expansive).

As I analyzed the scene, I almost let out a sigh, feeling somewhat let down that a character that I had always admired in the comics would end up getting mauled to death in front of my eyes. I almost turned away in disappointment, before I saw Bill shift from the corner of my eye. Returning my full attention to his slowly falling body, my eyes widened as I saw something shift underneath the skin of his arm.

In a single move (which reminded me a lot of Nebula, to be honest) Bill's arm twisted and turned in a distinctly non-organic manner, the appendage snapping back into place. Continuing the movement, even as he rotated during his fall, facing the ascending Kharadar, Bill used that same arm to reach across his shoulder, grab the cattle prod slung across his back, and with a beautifully executed swing, _slammed_ the glowing piece of alien weaponry _hard_ into the side of the tentacle monster beneath him, viscera exploding from the impact point, covering Bill from head to toe as the creature was flung to the other end of the arena, crashing into its thick walls.

Under tremendous cheering, applause, feet-stomping and general noise-making, Bill landed back onto the sands in the classic three-point landing, stumbling only for a moment as he straightened.

Hearing cheering from beside me, I turn with a raised eyebrow at a wildly clapping Sterns, whose enthusiastic applause slowly dies down as he notices me looking. Dropping his arms to his side and giving a little cough of embarrassment, Sterns tilted his chin upwards in defiance.

"What? I'm just… appreciating a professional's talents and… work ethic… shut up."

I grin, but say nothing as I see that within the ring, both combatants have worked themselves back to their feet and tentacles again, though they're looking a bit worse for wear at this point. Blood is rushing from the two wounds Bill managed to inflict upon the Kharadar, but the creature's endless assault of strikes have taken their toll on his stamina, and the great warrior can't quite keep himself from slumping a bit as he stares down his opponent.

Once again, the gladiator and the creature merely observe one another, deaf to the screams that wash over the arena like a tidal wave of sound. The Kharadar, still possessing greater mobility than the battered Korbinite (sparks occasionally run up and down the alien's arm) makes the first move, launching itself towards the orange gladiator with a howl of pure rage. Bill, now without a shield, knows he can't weather the blows in order to look for a counterstrike as he had before, so he launches himself forwards as well, his boots slamming into the sands below.

When they are nearly upon one another, a tentacle shoots forwards, almost as if the Kharadar seeks to impale its prey. In a single smooth move, Bill falls to his knees as he tilts his head back, sliding underneath the attack. Twisting to the side, he swings his glowing weapon with all his might, slamming the superheated baton into the side of the offending tentacle, causing the Kharadar to curl the appendage close to itself with a pained shriek, slight smoke coming from the impact zone.

But the alien creature doesn't have just one appendage. In the time it took for Bill to complete his strike, three more tentacles streak forwards, two coming at his back, one coming from above. Using the momentum of his swing, Bill turns on his heel, baton outstretched, allowing one of the tentacles to fly mere inches past him. Finishing his turn, he slams his outstretched weapon into the second tentacle, once again causing the Kharadar to immediately curl it close to its body.

However, Bill isn't fast enough for the third tentacle, and it comes crashing down on his shoulder, making his knees buckle, and forcing him down to kneel in the sand. With an angered roar, Bill swings up his cattle prod, causing the sinuous appendage to back off quickly, but it seems the Kharadar now has the upper… tentacle (?).

With his attention upwards, Bill fails to notice a smaller tentacle lashing out from the underside of the Kharadar's body, snaking across the sands like a viper and grasping him by the ankle. To the Champion's credit, he immediately makes to swing down in order to free himself, but before he can start his attack, the Kharadar gives a violent jerk, which causes Bill to lose his footing and smack harshly into the ground.

As the tentacle around his ankle is reeled back towards the main body, the Kharadar itself lunges forwards, trying to cover Bill's body so that the various gaping maws along its underside can start ripping into the Korbinite's flesh. Despite myself, I lean forwards, my hands nearly crushing the metal railing lining the stands. One particularly large mouth, about the size of a dust bin, opens wide and descends upon the struggling gladiator, and this time I'm sure I'm about to see the demise of Beta-Ray Bill-

"Get off me, creature!"

-before the gladiator _slams_ his cattle-prod deep into the gaping maw, smoke starting to pour from the mangled jaws as the Kharadar convulses in agony, its pained shrieks hurting my ears. Chocking and burning, the Kharadar starts trashing around as it tries to dislodge the three foot long piece of superheated metal shoved down one of its many throats, its multitude of tentacles lashing out randomly.

Several come close to hitting the prone Beta-Ray Bill, but the Korbinite is quick enough to dodge those that do, letting them hit the sand as he rolls around underneath the belly of the writhing Kharadar. In the split second that there are no tentacles about to crush him, Bill rolls on his back, draws in his legs and with a hateful roar kicks them out with all of his might, catching the Kharadar in its belly with enough force to lift it bodily of the ground and send it sailing a few dozen feet away.

Even before the beast has hit the ground, Bill has worked himself to his feet. He's without his shield and both of his weapons, and while his opponent is pretty badly wounded, it isn't out for the count by a long shot. Still, this doesn't seem to discourage the Korbinite Champion.

If anything, he looks even _more_ pissed off than before.

With a roar, Bill rushes towards the struggling Kharadar at an impressive pace, probably at highway speeds, and certainly fast enough to take the tentacle monster off guard. It turns towards Bill, several of its tentacles coming around in wide swings in order to force the enraged Korbinite to back off. However, it's noticeably slower than before, and Bill dodges the first few with seemingly little effort, until one of the thicker ones crashes into his torso. However, instead of it simply flinging him away again, Bill manages to trap the tentacle against his chest, his thick arms swelling with cybernetically enhanced muscles, his boots sliding across the sands as the gladiator digs in his heels.

Coming to a stop, Bill tightens his grip, shifting his feet as he lets out a rage fueled roar.

And before my disbelieving eyes, Beta-Ray Bill heaves with all his might, lifting the Kharadar clear off the ground as it is swung in a wide arc straight into the wall of the arena, shattering the heavy stone with its body.

Dazed, the creature is in no condition to force Bill to let go of one of its tentacles, and as the Korbinite gives another heave, the Kharadar is reeled in like a particularly ugly fish that was hit over the head with a particularly large ugly stick.

As it flies towards Bill, the gladiator shifts his stance and delivers a beautifully executed Spartan-kick to the monster's body, while simultaneously giving a violent jerk on the tentacle in his arms. As the body and the appendage are forced into two opposite vectors, something is forced to give, and with a horrible tearing sound, the skin and flesh at the base of the tentacle rip apart in a violent mess of blood and tissue.

The Kharadar slams into the ground, spraying sand and blood everywhere, even as Bill falls flat on his ass, squirming tentacle still clutched in his arms. For a moment, both opponents remain where they fell, the Kharadar a twisting, bleeding mess, Bill spread-eagled and breathing heavily, the sparks in his re-set arm increasing in frequency.

Still, it is the Champion of the Korbinites who stirs first, Bill laboriously working himself to a standing position, his breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. For a moment, he sways on his feet, before he managed to find the will to stand tall, his murderous gaze locking on to the battered form of the Kharadar.

He strides towards it, each footfall resounding heavily in the now utterly silent arena, dragging the severed tentacle behind him, leaving a trail of slick purplish blood. The Kharadar is seemingly blinded by pain, and it only notices Bill when the gladiator is mere feet away. It tries to scurry away from the Champion, a tentacle coming in a low sweeping motion in order to buy it some time so it can create distance between it and what it now realizes is the true predator within these walls.

Its desperate escape is halted as Bill's boot slams down on the tentacle, pinning it to the sands, and thus pinning the Kharadar in place. As the Kharadar weakly struggles, Bill tightens his grip on the severed tentacle in his hands, his face pulled into a hateful snarl.

"I have had enough of you, vile creature!"

And with that, Bill swings the severed tentacle high above his head, sending it slamming down onto the Kharadar with an enormous crashing sound, the creature shrieking in pain and fear, as it redoubles its efforts to get away from its opponent, desperately tugging at the tentacle still pinned underneath Bill's foot.

But the Korbinite has gone berserk, and simply grinds down his boot harder upon the pinned tentacle, as he swings his macabre weapon once again, _slamming_ it down on top of the bleeding Kharadar. The sound of bones snapping is clearly heard by all, but it doesn't dissuade Bill from continuing his attacks.

Again the tentacle is slammed into the Kharadar's body with tremendous force, knocking out teeth, popping eyes, breaking bones and pulverizing organs. Again, Bill attacks the twitching creature at his feet.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And _again_.

Over and over, Beta-Ray Bill roars as he swings the severed tentacle, now more a whip of bone and frayed skin than an actual appendage, into the bleeding, broken mess of flesh that remains of the Kharadar's body, long after the creature's twitches have stopped.

Finally, after what feels like hours but was probably only a matter of minutes, Bill seems to come down from his Berserker rage, his chest heaving as he desperately gulps in air. He allows his makeshift weapon to fall to the blood-soaked sands, resting his hands on his knees as he slowly comes to himself again.

The entire arena is silent as they look upon the gore-covered form of the Korbinite, as he slowly lifts his head, gazing at the unrecognizable heap of broken flesh in front of him. Panting all the while in sheer exhaustion, Bill lifts one of his arms and examines it with tired eyes, the orange skin hidden underneath layers of purplish blood and scattered viscera.

As zoomed in as my vision is, I catch how his expression falls as the last few minutes of the fight catch up with the alien whose inherently noble personality in the comics had made him, not just worthy of wielding Mjolnir, but worthy enough to have Odin commission a separate weapon of equal power from the Dwarves of Nidavellir for him to wield: Stormbreaker.

Looking at the gore-splattered gladiator down below, I wonder what has happened to _that_ Champion. The noble Champion of the Korbinites, instead of the savage Champion of Sakaar I now see before me. Judging by the way he once again glances at the mangled remains of the Kharadar, before closing his eyes with an expression that seems to be a mix of pain and guilt, _he_ seems to wonder the same things as well.

When Bill opens his eyes again, I see the deep melancholy behind them, before it is overtaken by rage as he gazes up at the Grandmaster's box, Jeff Goldblum himself nearly glued to the glass as he is rapidly munching on what appears to be some kind of popcorn (except for the fact that it is neon blue).

Once again, the excited immortal makes a 'come on! Do the… thing!'-motion, and once again, Beta-Ray Bill has no choice but to follow his master's orders. Giving a disdainful sneer, Bill looks at the silent crowd, takes in their awed expressions, the banners with his face and name on it.

Then he straightens fully, raises both fists to the sky, and gives out a roar that causes people to start cheering in response, the arena shuddering underneath their violent excitement. The people call out to their Champion, but Beta-Ray Bill ignores them, turning on his heel and making his way back to the gate of the arena, its heavy doors opening in order to allow the champion to leave now that the match has been concluded to the people's satisfaction.

I think that I am one of the very few that catches Bill's brief glance over his shoulder at the mangled remains of his opponent, before the darkness of the gladiator quarters swallows up his form, the heavy gate falling shut behind him.

For a moment, I contemplate the enormous steel doors, tuning out Jeff Goldblum's voice as he soaks in the admiration of the crowd, while trying to rile them up, to get them excited for _tomorrow's_ match.

Bill facing yet another horrible monster from the depths of space, no doubt.

I turn towards the somewhat subdued looking Sterns, my deep voice shaking him from his thoughts and tearing his gaze away from the corpse of the Kharadar as several workers have come in and began to take its remains of the sands, needing several trip in order to do so, due to Bill… not exactly leaving the Kharadar in a single piece.

"Analysis?"

"You mean other than the fact that all of this is messed up?"

"Other than that, yes."

Sterns gives a tired little sigh, before he faces me fully, one hand coming up from underneath his cloak, a small hologram springing to life above his palm. It showcases several charts, as well as small rotating models of both Beta-Ray Bill and the Kharadar.

"I've managed to take detailed surface scans of both of them during the fight, though due to the distance between us, I haven't been able to perform any deep scans. Meaning that I _can_ tell you the exact number of eyes the Kharadar had, or how rapidly Beta-Ray Bill was breathing at any given moment during the fight, but I _can't_ tell you what the Kharadar's optical nerves or digestive tract looks like, or just what kind of machinery is inside Beta-Ray Bill that allows him to snap his broken arm back into place like it's nothing."

"Estimation of combat capabilities?"

"Which one?"

"Bill."

"Well, like I said, I wasn't able to perform scans as detailed as I wanted to. However, I have been running simulations during the entire fight based upon my observations as well as all my collected data about you, and I can say with about 76.328% certainty that you would've taken the Kharadar out twice as fast as Beta-Ray Bill did, if not faster. Mind you, those are simulations where you _don't_ use the Meteor Fist right off the bat."

My eyebrows rose in surprise at Sterns' statement.

"Really? _Twice_ as fast? Damn."

"What can I say? You're a scary dude when you want to be Michael. Hell, you're scary even when you _aren't_ trying to be. Well, _that_ , and then there's the fact that flight is a huge boon in close combat."

"I suppose. Where would you rank him, put against all the races and enhanced individuals that we know of?"

"Since I can only guess at the weight and material make-up of the Kharadar, I can't really tell you exactly how strong he is in order to throw a creature that size around, or how durable he is in order to withstand multiple high-speed impacts from its tentacles. Assuming that the Kharadar weighed around the same as a small to medium tank… hang on, let me think for a sec… yeah, that would put Beta-Ray Bill at the absolute top tier of what we speculate races like the Asgardians or Kree to be capable of. And those estimations are on the _safe_ side."

I let out a low whistle as I turn back towards the stand, resting my forearms on the railing in front of me, my eyes taking in the lounging Grandmaster, the cheering crowds and the crew trying to remove all the various bits and pieces of the Kharadar from the sands. My gaze shifts towards the heavy gate that Beta-Ray Bill had entered and left through, sunk in deep contemplation until Sterns' voice shook me from my thoughts.

"Michael? What are you going to do?"

As a plan falls into place in my mind, I turn towards my friend with a steadily growing grin, my eyes lighting up underneath the faceplate of my helmet.

"You know what? I think I'm gonna go have a chat with a certain someone."

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** In the Thor: Ragnarok movie, Beta-Ray Bill's head can be seen on the Grandmaster's Palace. The other faces are previous Champions as well, showing Man-Thing, Ares and Bi-Beast.

 **AN:** I'm cutting the chapter here, simply because I did not expect for this part to become so long (or to become so dark towards the end there) and I did promise that I would get this out yesterday. No promises on the next update however. Exam preparations is eating up all my time. Anyways, I sincerely hope that all of you spent a wonderful Christmas, and should I not upload before then, I wish you all a happy New Year's. Cheers!

 _As awlays, major shout out to my amazing Patrons, Miu, justlovereadin, Carn Krauss, ReapeScythe, Thordur hrafn, Daniel Dorfman, Fakhrurrozi and Samuel Carson! I cannot thank you guys enough for willing to support me as you do, so thanks again!_


	41. Come with me if you want Revenge

_**Come with me if you want revenge**_

* * *

 **About an hour after the gladiator-match**

Finding the residency of my target was surprisingly easy: all I needed to do was pass by several of the guards in order to pick up on their surface thoughts, making them unwittingly direct me through the Grandmaster's Palace. With the guard's thoughts providing me with a literal mind map, Sterns and I quickly found ourselves ascending the many levels of the massive superstructure, rapidly making our way to the upper floors.

In order to not draw any unwanted attention, both Sterns and I had shrunk down using Cross Technology, and remained cloaked most of the time. As with the Time Stone inside Oliver's shrunk engine, the Mind Stone in my forehead didn't exhibit any limitations in its powers as a result of its altered size. Gleaning the thoughts of the aliens surrounding us remained as easy as interpreting the thoughts of humans had turned out to be, despite the fact that the universal translators merely worked on speech instead of actual thoughts.

Clearly, the primordial force of nature embedded in my helmet didn't care for such silly things as language barriers.

As for the more… _physical_ barriers that we encountered during our stealth mission…

"Sterns."

"Yeah?"

"Do you see that massive metal gate in front of us?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to."

"You got it."

And with the push of a button, the previously imposing slabs of metal closing off the hallway were reduced to the size of a fingernail, allowing Sterns and I to freely continue our journey. A few feet away, Sterns pressed another button, the gate springing back into place with a lurch, and some malfunctioning components where the door had suddenly disconnected from the security systems in the walls.

It would take a while for anyone to notice, I knew: I could sense no organic minds in our vicinity, and Sterns had hacked the security feed. Due to the completely different programming language used on this alien planet, Sterns hadn't been able to completely take over the Palace's systems, but he _had_ managed to disable any alarms, as well as putting the camera and sensor feeds on infinite loops.

And so we continued for another ten minutes, having used various elevators and stairs to ascend another twenty levels at least, until I came to a sudden stop. Feeling Sterns' questioning eyes on me, I quickly elaborated.

"Large group of organics, moving in our direction. Contact in less than two minutes. Kill your thrusters and hug the wall. I'll go see what they know." I spoke over our comms, getting a curt nod from Sterns before he swiftly followed my orders.

As he hid underneath his cloak, I instead flew upwards, hiding myself amongst the various deep rivets that ran across the ceiling and walls, my camo cloak smoothly adopting the surrounding color scheme and geometric patterns.

I didn't have to wait long for my targets to arrive, a half dozen aliens in brightly colored armor walking down the hall in a smooth lockstep, the glaring lights of the Palace glinting off their futuristic forms as they moved as one. Their appearance made them appear disciplined; each and every one of them as cool as a cucumber, fierce determination running through their veins (or whatever the hell their alien biology had as an alternative).

Their _minds_ however…

' _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…'_

' _Man, I_ _ **really**_ _should've saved up my sick days. Maybe then I could've gotten myself out of this mess…'_

' _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…'_

' _This is gonna suck. His mood is hard enough to read as it is, but after tonight's show…'_

' _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…'_

' _Fuck my life. I didn't even get to say goodbye to my mother…'_

' _OH SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT…'_

Their well-concealed gibbering almost made me chuckle aloud, before I controlled myself. According to whom their thoughts were focused on, these guys were on their way to my target. Since _I_ was on my way to my target as well, and wished to speak to him in _private_ , I couldn't have that. Still, considering my arsenal, there was no need to escalate the situation with violence.

Not _yet_ , anyways.

With a flex of my will, the Mind Stone's power flooded me, and I took a hold of the minds underneath me. Just as I had done with the security forces in the arena during Beta-Ray Bill's match, I pulled and pushed against their minds, causing them to halt in their tracks as one. Exerting my will over their terrified minds, I once again started pulling at their thoughts, supplanting their ideas with my own.

For a moment, there was no movement, before the man in front of the group turned on his heel to face his companions.

"Right! Break time! To the mess hall, move it!"

"Yes sir!"

And without a fuss (and with mixed feelings of relief and confusion) the group of guards did a collective 180, and started walking back the way they came from, hurriedly moving away from their original destination.

Dropping to the floor, I shared a look with Sterns, before we quickly made our way towards my target. It took us only five minutes, two more floors, one blast shield and three energy fields before we finally arrived at my target's quarters, who was facing away from the arched doorway leading to his spacious room.

Enlarging myself to my full size, I started walking towards him, his head tilting somewhat as he noticed the sound of my heavy footfalls. Half-turning in order to face me, I saw my target's eyes narrow, while I couldn't quite keep a grin from showing on my concealed face.

"Greetings!" I called out in what I hoped was a non-threatening manner (though the fact that I was an unknown deep inside the most secure building on this planet would likely make me seem to be a threat no matter how I presented myself).

My target's eyes narrowed, expertly studying what was visible of my armored form from underneath my camo-cloak.

"Who are you, stranger?" Beta-Ray Bill growls out.

"A potential ally, should you be willing to listen to my proposal." I reply in a light tone, but the Korbinite doesn't let his guard down, remaining silent for a moment.

I use those few seconds in order to walk a couple of steps further into the Champion's room, observing the cyborg alien in the low lights embedded in the ceiling, and whatever little light comes in from the Sakaarian nightlife through his spacious windows. The cybernetic Korbinite is sitting in what almost appears to be a mix of the chair/mobile prison that Thor was held captive in, and Darth Vader's meditation chamber. Thick robotic limbs rise up from the back of the "chair" and are working repairs on Bill's artificial body, most notably his arm and ribcage, where the Kharadar had injured him.

Remember that scene in the second Terminator movie, where Arnie removes the skin on his forearm, showing the robotic appendage underneath? Think something like that, but instead of spindly hydraulics, imagine a far more solid structure, along with blinking electronic lights and lines, Bill's artificial skin pulled away much like the communicator panel on Buzz Lightyear's armor.

And his chest… the ancient Vikings are thought to have had a ritualized form of execution, called the Blood Eagle. I'll spare you the gory details, but it basically involved breaking open someone's ribcage and pulling out their lungs in order to create "wings". It seemed that Bill's body was capable of much the same, though without any blood or apparent discomfort, the alien studying me with a critical gaze even as his metallic ribcage was on full display, two robotic limbs digging deep into his side in order to perform repairs.

However, as gruesomely fascinating as his body is, it's his mind that's even more intriguing. During his match, as high-up amongst a massive crowd as I had been, it had been impossible for me to hone in on his thoughts and peruse them with enough subtlety that he wouldn't notice.

But standing here in front of him, with neither distance or hundreds of other minds between us, I can get an unobstructed look into the mind of Beta-Ray Bill… and holy shit is it a dark place. Hatred, pain, loss, self-loathing and general bloodlust flood my ethereal senses like a tsunami of angst. Clearly, being enslaved and forced to fight to the death on a regular basis while his people are god knows where and probably all dead, hasn't done his emotional stability any favors.

But other than _what_ I feel from his mind, it's _how_ his mind feels that's interesting. It starkly reminds me of Phineas, but more… closed off, or layered. As if I'm looking at a brain like Phineas', but one which is entombed in layers and layers of opaque and durable material.

Feeling his eyes on me, I give him a slight shrug.

"I apologize if I caught you at a bad time, Beta-Ray Bill. I'd offer to return later, but considering I am not exactly a guest here, there might not _be_ a later. So I'd like to discuss my proposal here and now, if you wouldn't mind."

For a long moment, the Korbinite remains silent and completely unmoving (other than a flick of his eyes towards Sterns when the scientist is a _tad_ too obvious in his staring at Bill's systems). Finally, after what feels like minutes, the Champion starts talking in a deep, gruff voice.

The voice, combined with his horse-like face, reminds me of Ron Perlman, to be honest.

"My appearance… it does not… _disturb_ you?"

I chuckle as I take a seat on one of the couches, showing of a relaxed appearance as I lean into the pillows, resting my hands behind my helmet.

"Of course not! I do not care for how people look. Hell, my best friend has a head thrice the size of what's normal for my species, and another one doesn't have a body at all! Or well, he has several that he uses whenever it suits him, but most of the time he's happy being the digitized consciousness inhabiting my fortresses' systems. And I myself do not exactly have what you would call… an _average_ build."

Seeing his eyes track slowly from me to Sterns and back again (I get slightly unnerved by the fact that he does not seem to need to blink), Bill remains silent for a few moments again, before he lets out a small grunt.

"I see. Well then, 'potential ally'. I have but a few questions for you. What brings you here? And why should I listen to you? You are clearly no friend to the Grandmaster, or there would have been no need for you to sneak into my quarters. What is to stop me from raising the alarms and having you removed from the Palace?" Bill growls lowly, shifting slightly in his life-support chair/repair station.

At his movement, the robotic limbs smoothly fold away, while the exposed flaps of his skin fall back into place again, sealing themselves smoothly with a slight hiss and a small burst of steam as the artificial Korbinite raises fully from his chair.

He towers over my sitting form, powerful arms crossed over a broad chest, the orange flesh perfectly hiding the engines and reactors underneath. In the comics, those reactors that powered him had a potential output that, when fully unleashed, had allowed Bill to go against Galactus himself, if only for a brief moment (I'm actively controlling myself not to drool in the presence of such powerful technology).

In response to his slight intimidation tactic, I come to my feet as well, subtly (or not so subtly) showing him that for all his size, I still tower nearly two feet over him, while being broader at the chest as well. However, after a brief stare down that couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds, I slowly sit back down again, arms spread out over the back of the couch, my entire posture as non-threatening as I can make it.

"Because on this entire planet, the _only_ ones that _aren't_ your enemy, Bill, are my associates and I. These people, they do not care for your wellbeing or even your _survival_. All they care about is that you give them a good fight. Now, whether that fight ends with your opponent's guts spilled on the floor, or _yours_ … well, let's just say it ain't exactly high on their list of concerns."

Bill bristles at my level tone and the reminder of his fate, but he can't exactly dispute what I've just said, so he turns his back on me as walks towards one of his windows, partly as an insult to me (by turning his back he's telling me he doesn't see me as a threat) and partly in order to cool his head.

"Do you always recruit others by reminding them how miserable they are?" the Korbinite bites out as he stares at the Sakaar City skyline.

"Honestly? Yes. It is much easier to recognize an opportunity to move _forwards_ once you've recognized how _backwards_ your current situation truly is." I reply easily, not surprised at all when the dour Champion scoffs at my words.

"And let me guess. In this case, moving forwards means being subservient to _you_?"

"An _ally_ to me. I have _employees_ , friends even, Beta-Ray Bill. But I do _not_ have sycophants or slaves. Unlike a certain someone you and I both know."

For a moment, the Korbinite remains silent, before he looks at me over his shoulder with a calculating gaze.

"The Grandmaster." He guesses, prompting a smile from me.

"Indeed. The Grandmaster. What has he promised you, Bill? Win the Contest of Champions and you're free to go? Participate in his little death-matches, entertain the crowds with your bloodshed, and he'll allow you to go on your merry way?" I say in a mocking tone as I rise from the couch and approach him with slow steps, my hands folded behind my back.

Seeing his grudging nod, I allow my grin to grow even wider as I come to a halt beside him, my eyes raking across the futuristic cityscape far below me.

"Come now Bill. You cannot tell me you actually _believed_ him, did you?"

For a moment, the cybernetic alien seems to struggle to find the words, his fists clenching and unclenching as he stares out the window with unseeing, unblinking eyes.

"He vowed to me that I could return to guide my people once I had demonstrated my valor in battle. He vowed that, once I had _proven_ to him that I was worthy of the title of Champion, he would provide me with a ship and coordinates, a debt I would've repaid by fighting in his arena. He _vowed_ to me, on his _honor_ , that I would see my people again, if only I would but fight for them. And for him."

"Honor? Bill, the man has no honor! He is _millions_ of years old, how many beings do you think have died for his amusement ever since he created Sakaar? Hundreds? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands? How many times has he offered freedom to one of _them_ , I wonder. You cannot tell me that you honestly believed that he would allow his prize fighter to simply… _walk off_. All that revenue, all of that _amusement_ … and he would allow you to just walk away?"

"What else was I to do?!" Bill suddenly roars, whirling towards me, his face drawn in a snarl and his hands balled into fists at his side.

"You think I had not thought of those things myself?! That I am foolish enough not to know when I'm being used?! Of course the man would break his word, but what other options did I have?! The ships are locked up, the portals guarded, and my crash had damaged both my ship and myself! I had no choice but to fight! Every! Damned! _Day!_ "

And with a final roar of pain and frustration, Bill raises his fist, cocks it back, and in a single turn, _slams_ it into the window hard enough for spider cracks to form along the entire length of the highly durable material.

As the Korbinite leans forwards, allowing his forehead to rest on the cool glass, I subtly wave Sterns away, who after a moment returns to his place by the entrance, his six robotic limbs once again returning to hide underneath his wide robes.

"I apologize for bringing up these old pains, Bill. You have been done a great injustice, your time spent in captivity here yet another sordid chapter in the tragedy that has become the history of your people. I do not-"

"Save your silver tongue and smooth lies, Word-Smith. Like I said: I'm not dumb enough to _not_ be aware when I'm being used. You've succeeded in reminding me how _backwards_ my situations is, like you said, despite my best efforts to forget during these last years. Now comes the part where you spin a pretty picture of how you're offering an opportunity to go _forwards_ , so that afterwards, I can finally kick you out for disturbing what little peace I have left. Go ahead, oh my mysterious ally. Tell me how consigning myself to being your attack-dog will make everything better for me." Beta-Ray Bill says bitterly.

As I look for the right words to say in order to sway Bill to my side, I once again explore the surface thoughts of his mind, searching for anything that can give me a clue as to what I need to say in order to _not_ get the Grandmaster's security forces called down upon my head.

And right there, at the center of his maelstrom of self-loathing, I find what I need in order to get the Champion of the Korbinites fighting by my side.

"I'd like to Bill. Really, I do. God knows you've deserved some good news after all the shit you've been through. But I _can't_ tell you I'm going to make everything better for you, because that would just be a blatant lie. In fact, things are likely to get even _worse_ should you join me." I say with a sigh as I lean against the cracked window, my gaze pointed towards my booted feet.

I can feel the confusion rolling off of the Korbinite as he regards me warily, before I have to hide my smile as I can feel it shift towards curiosity instead.

"And what, _exactly_ , are you offering that's worse than being forced to fight for every new dawn in this hellish pit? For that matter, if what you're offering is so horrible, then _why_ would I want to agree to it in the first place?" Bill growls out as he studies me.

"Well, it's _worse_ than fighting in this hellhole, because if you agree to follow me, you'll end up fighting _everyone_ , _everywhere_. Entire _armies_ stand between me and my nemesis, ranging from Kree to Chitauri to the native Sakaarians, and they aren't going to do me the courtesy of remaining huddled together in the same place. If I wish to meet my enemies in battle, I will have traverse the length and breadth of the entire Galaxy, moving from one inhospitable place to the next. And you'd want to join me despite all that because of _two_ reasons."

Pushing off the window, I raise up a single finger, looking the Korbinite dead in the eye.

"First, we'll keep a look-out for your people. I am _not_ vowing that we'll find them. I am _not_ vowing that, _if_ we do, they'll be alive. But I _do_ promise that we'll _try_. And should we find the other Korbinites, then you'll _finally_ know what has become of your people. If they have perished during the time that you have been separated from the fleet, then we shall give them a proper burial according to your customs and traditions. Should they be alive, then I offer them refuge within my own solar system. There are several moons there which my people are incapable of colonizing, but which would make a more than adequate New Korbin for your people." I say in a deadly serious voice, mentally pushing all of my conviction, all of my _honesty_ to the alien in front of me.

I can feel Bill's suspicions waver, hope blooming inside him against his will at the prospect of finally removing that gnawing anxiety that has been a constant companion to him for these past years, of _finally_ ridding himself of the pain of not-knowing.

"You have that kind of power? To promise unknown refugees an entire _moon_?" Bill asks skeptically, neither his voice nor his face betraying any of the emotions hidden inside of him.

"As I have said before, Beta-Ray Bill: I am _far_ from average amongst my people. My friend and I may have found our way to Sakaar, but do not take this as a sign that my species has discovered interstellar travel. Only a sub-species of my race has managed to create a base on my planet's only satellite, unknown to the majority of my people and mostly due to interference from the Kree. Many of my people still think that interstellar travel is not achievable using conventional science and technology, though I'm trying to dissuade them from such notions. As such, many valuable moons and planets have only been observed from afar, and for many of them there are no colonization projects drawn up. So yes, Bill. I _can_ offer your people a moon."

I can tell that he's tempted already, but his experiences have jaded him enough to remain wary of my offer, his unblinking pupiless eyes remaining fixed on my faceplate.

"And the second reason for why you think I'll accept?"

"Because of one of those armies that stand between me and my nemesis: the Fire Demons of Muspelheim, led by none other than Surtur, prophesized reckoning of Asgard… and the Destroyer of Korbin. _Your_ homeworld."

A tidal wave of sheer fucking _rage_ slams into every fiber of my being, my mind, body and soul shaking underneath this veritable onslaught of hatred rolling off of the alien in front of me like a fiery tornado. It feels like the equivalent of staring into the sun with my mental senses, so I quickly withdraw my power, using the Mind Stone in order to shield my psyche against Bill's rage, all the while sending cool, calming thoughts to the mini-Leviathan that had gotten worried inside his tank in Oliver's trailer.

Blinking the metaphorical spots from my mind's eye, I focus back on the source of that titanic amount anger, and what I see is somehow even scarier than what I've just experienced.

Bill hasn't moved. His hands are still kept loosely at his side. His face is completely and utterly blank. And he _still_ hasn't blinked. But those eyes of his…

In a tone colder than the depth of space, Beta-Ray Bill speaks only four little words, and yet the barely restrained fury is enough to raise the hackles on my neck.

"When do we start?"

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Interestingly enough, Thor: Ragnarok was a reunion for part of the OG Jurassic Park cast. There's Jeff Goldblum, of course, but in a blink-or-you'll-miss-it cameo, we also see Sam Neill (Dr. Alan Grant) during the Asgardian play of Loki's death, acting as Odin. In that same scene, Matt Damon plays Loki, while Luke Hemsworth plays Chris Hemsworth.

 **AN:** I am sorry this is so short, but as I've said before, I'm knee deep in exam preparations. Hell, I shouldn't have actually written this much in the first place, since I still have an entire research paper to write! So yeah, again, sorry about the length, but I really wanted to write, looked at the time and thought that this was a decent enough spot to cut the chapter. As for future updates, I have exams until February, so they'll be sporadic at best. Until then, I hope you have had a wonderful New Years, cheers!

 _I would like to express my thanks to Miu, Justlovereadin, Daniel Dorfman, Carn Krauss, Samuel Carson, Thordur Hrafn, ReaperScythe and Fakhrurrozi for their continued support! It really does mean a lot to me, so thanks again!_


	42. The Revolution has begun!

_**The revolution has begun**_

* * *

Beta-Ray Bill POV

Gladiator armory, Sakaar Arena  
Five hours after the meeting with Hyperion, 18:40 Sakaarian Time

* * *

Most people thought that cyborgs didn't feel. This was not entirely correct, as Bill had found during his time as his people's greatest weapon. Yes, tactile sensations might not exactly register to him as they did to other organics (hot and cold were now simply readouts on his internal HUD rather than a feeling) but Bill could still sense the air move across his synth skin, the electromagnetic field of the planetoid beneath his feet, the brush of metal in his hand.

In many ways, Bill now felt more than he had ever thought possible in his previous body.

Then again, most people probably meant that cyborgs didn't have _feelings_. This was somewhat more difficult to disprove. Fear, for instance, was something that was becoming a vaguer and vaguer memory to Bill with each passing day (after all, the Korbinite people hardly needed a Champion who would run away from danger). His actions were based on cold, hard logic, his mind taking in every possible factor in whatever situation he was in, running it through hundreds of simulations before coming up with the most advantageous course of action. But he still held on strongly to his honor and his moral code, and despair was an emotion that he had experienced often enough on this damned planet over the years spent wasting away as little more than a glorified circus animal.

So it used to be a toss-up whether or not Beta-Ray Bill had feelings like most beings in the galaxy had. _Used_ to be. After all, today, Bill had found quite definite proof for the fact that even an android such as him is still capable of vivid emotions.

The proof being that he wanted to _rip his surroundings apart_ when Hyperion mentioned Surtur to him, the name causing his databanks to immediately start playing every single memory where Bill was forced to watch both his planet and his people die at the hands of the Fire Demon's armies in perfect clarity. It was actually a blessing that his body was artificial: even as his very soul raged in anger, his body remained in default mode, all systems reporting normal levels of activity.

It still didn't seem to fool Hyperion though, the large human regarding him warily even after he had managed to reboot his mind so to speak. However, not to be deterred, the Word-Smith had wasted no time in calling over his friend, the three of them planning through the rise of the dawn and the midday sun on how to get off the planet unnoticed (or at the very least without the forces of the Grandmaster following them to their next location).

The genius of the scientist (introduced as Sterns) was pooled together with the tactical knowledge of both Bill and Hyperion, with Bill providing whatever intel he could on the Grandmaster's palace and forces. Since the information the duo needed in order to get off planet and not be lost amongst the infinite vastness of space was secure in the Grandmaster's private systems, they would need to penetrate to the palace's inner sanctum.

As the two humans had demonstrated by seeking him out, there were very little defenses, both technological and organic, that could stand in their way, but the Grandmaster's databanks were heavily encrypted, and even Bill would struggle against the full military might of the dictator's forces, especially if the man's top enforcer were on sight.

A distraction was needed then, large and violent enough to peel off the Grandmaster's army to manageable levels, allowing the enormously headed scientist the time needed to crack the encryption, data-mine the necessary files and then meet up with him and Hyperion so that the three of them could make their exit without any pursuers hot on their tail.

A slave rebellion would do quite nicely indeed.

In the end, the plan was very simple, Bill concluded as he strapped a segmented breastplate to his torso, eying the heavy shock hammer on the stand next to him, despite the fact that two long knives were already hanging from his belt and a two-handed sword was slung across his back. If any of the guards noticed that he was stocking up on more armor and weaponry than he usually did for his fights, then they remained quiet about it.

Considering how… _excitable_ the Grandmaster had looked, seated in his personal viewing Box, it probably would've been seen as a wise decision to gear up as much as possible against whatever horror he was supposed to face this time.

As Bill picked up the shock hammer, carefully testing the balance of the weapon, he let his eyes subtly roam across the wings where the various gladiators were assembled, each and every one of them briefly highlighted on his HUD with succinct bio's detailing their species, any noteworthy aspects and their possible threat levels.

Most of them were only C Ranked according to his inbuilt targeting system, with the occasional B Rank scattered amongst them. Not nearly though or strong enough to be the instrumental part of the overall plan that Bill needed (not that he was all that surprised, most species in the galaxy fell within the C and B Ranks, with only the truly powerful races like the Kree or Asgardians being rated A to his predictive combat systems, which rated himself as S Rank. The only being he had met during his time as the Beta-Ray that was S Rank as well was Hyperion). Right as he decided on taking the shock hammer with him despite its somewhat unwieldy size, his eyes landed on one of the A- Ranked gladiators. Even as he faintly felt satisfaction at finding his target, his face and body betrayed nothing, each and every single muscle perfectly under his conscious control.

Stalking towards his target, easily brushing past the lesser gladiators, Bill kept eyeing the guards outside of the red energy shield, taking note of their positions and rotations. His target was holding a three-pronged spear in his hands (' _ **Origin:**_ _Troru._ _ **Intended purpose:**_ _ceremonial purposes._ _ **Estimated combat usefulness:**_ _low.'_ Bill's database immediately concluded), one finger gently touching one of the points with a dubious expression on his face.

Coming to a halt beside his target, all the while pretending to look at the variety of spears on display, Bill spoke under his breath, the corner of his mouth barely moving, even as he angled his body in such a way that the guards couldn't see his face.

"Stock up on as much weapons, armor and supplies as you can. Tell whoever will listen to you to do the same. In three minutes, the shields will fall. Take as many of the fighters as you can, you're strong enough to get most of them to follow you, and run down to the end of this hallway. Take two lefts, then a right. It should lead you to one of the back entrances of the Arena. Look for a massive and tall building made of blue and silver metal that's closest to you, then reach the highest floors: that's where the hangers are. Steal whatever amount of ships you need to get off planet: most of the portals will spit you out several weeks to a few months away from civilization, emergency supplies on board should last you that long if you stick to rationing."

Seeing one of the guards look in his direction for slightly to long to be comfortable, Bill turned away from his target, stepping closer to what appeared to be the illegal lovechild of an axe and a flail hanging on the racks with a considering look until the guard moved away.

As the guard moved on, Bill let out a quiet breath, more out of habit than anything else, and prepared to move back to his side of the wings, before a horribly unsubtle whisper came from behind him (if he still had an organic body, he undoubtedly would've winced at just how _unsubtle_ the speaker was being), causing him to halt in his tracks.

"What? Wait, what's going on?"

For a moment, Bill seriously considered whether he should grind his teeth or not, before deciding it would be a useless sign of his aggravation, keeping his face carefully blank as he glanced over his shoulder, pinning the speaker in place.

"Revolution. _That's_ what's going on." He bit out softly.

Bill saw his target's eyes light up at the words, and a small nod was enough to tell him that the speaker would be on board. As he walked away, Bill could hear the other gladiator nudge the fighter closest to him, whispering that perhaps the lime-green humanoid would feel more satisfied in her daily bloodthirsty needs if she took a _fifth_ blade into battle?

Inwardly, Bill smiled darkly even as his face remained impassive, already looking forwards to the next phase of the plan.

It never hurt to have a Kronan fighting for your course after all.

* * *

19:15 Sakaarian Time

As the small tournament that had been going on since the late afternoon drew to a close, Bill kept a close watch on the forcefield locking him and his fellow gladiators in. Most of the slaves had been informed on the imminent break-out, most of them keeping an eye on the large Kronan, who in turn was keeping an eye on Bill.

Sterns had proposed, based on Bill's descriptions of how a day at the Arena went behind the scenes, to stage the breakout right on the heels of a tournament. A tournament not only meant a number of fighters in the arena (diverting a part of the guard's attention), it would also mean that there would be a bit of ceremony as the Grandmaster declared the winner (sometimes this boiled down to the man simply going "eeny meeny miny moe") which would divert even more of the guard's attention.

Then of course there would be the wounded and the dead, meaning that many of the gates would be opened in order for the medics and the undertakers to take their clients away (one of the dangers of being a gladiator on Sakaar (besides the obvious maiming and dismemberment of course) was that sometimes those professions would overlap. And if you just so happened to be a client of the first, who for whatever reason _didn't_ feel like nursing you back to health, they you could suddenly and inexplicably find yourself a client of the latter).

Seeing the guard's rotation shift, right as the doors of several passageways leading towards both the Arena and the outside world opened, Bill tensed his muscles in preparation, giving the Kronan a barely imperceptible nod as he waited for Sterns to do his part of the plan (though he had to give a rather more pronounced nod to the eager looking Kronan, his previous sign appearing to have been somewhat _too_ imperceptible).

Seeing a hooded figure round the corner, Bill started slowly walking towards the shield, both his hands holding the shock hammer in a firm grip as his eyes started cataloguing the hallway before him and everything (and every _one_ ) in it as well. One of the guards noticed Bill walking towards him, and despite having an impenetrable forcefield between them, the enforcer couldn't quite keep himself form taking a step back, a tremor clearly audible in his voice as he leveled his weapon at the approaching cyborg.

"Halt right there, prisoner! Not a step further!"

Bill of course didn't stop approaching, his unblinking eyes kept locked on the guard now only a dozen feet away from him. Still, that meant that the forcefield was now just over a foot away from him, the hum of the lasers clearly audible to his audio-receptors. A fact noticed by another guard standing next to the nervous one, who clapped his colleague on his armored shoulder with a dark chuckle.

"Relax, if the robot wants to fry himself then let him. Will you man the fuck up already? _Nothing_ can get through that shield."

Which is, of course, the exact moment that it failed.

Bill was already moving before the lasers had had a chance to fully dissipate, smoothly turning his walk into a dead sprint, accelerating fast enough that time seemed to slow down. The first guard already had his weapon trained on Bill, but the cyborg had carefully observed the man's hold and stance, his mind running ballistic simulation after simulation.

So when the guard fired, Bill turned his head exactly 27.3 ° to the right, the screaming bolt of energy passing 6.82 millimeters from his face, slamming harmlessly into one of the stand behind him. The guard was correcting his aim, but he was far too slow: by now he was inside Bill's reach.

Not halting his momentum, Bill's left hand shot out, grasping the barrel of the guard's weapon and forcing it down, allowing it to fire uselessly into the ground, his feet carrying him further at an impressive speed, his forehead crashing hard enough into that of the guard that the man's helmet shattered as he was sent flying.

Bill was ready to turn on his heel in order to catch the second guard with his shock hammer, but before he had a chance to, a slim blur slammed into the guard's chest, carrying him down the length of the hallway and pinning him to the furthest wall. Seeing the tri-pronged spear shuddering from where it was trapped into the enforcer's chest, Bill turned to look over his shoulder, giving a grateful nod to the Kronan, who happily waved back.

The rock-like warrior raised a large hand-cannon high into the air as he looked at his fellow slaves, a grin on his craggy face.

"The revolution has begun!"

Before the cheer of his audience even had a chance to properly form, it was suddenly cut off by the sound of a multitude of boots slamming against the ground, a patrol of Sakaarian guards rounding the corner and training their weapons upon the gladiators in a single smooth formation.

"Prisoner escape in progress! Employ countermeasures!" the one in the front shouted, gaining affirmative calls from his squad, about a third of them pulling familiar slight silver bars from the pouches on their equipment belt.

Despite it being covered by a full helmet, Bill could still _hear_ the man's sick grin in his voice as he gave his order.

"Fry these fuckers!"

"Yes, sir!" the other guards responded with equal glee, some of the gladiators looking worried as they lifted their remotes as one.

Simultaneous clicks rang out through the hallway, several of the gladiators flinching at the sound, their reflexes mercilessly trained by their experienced pain receptors. However, after a brief moment of confusion (on both sides) they realized that they weren't, in fact, convulsing on the ground in agony.

"Yeahhh… about that. I _might_ have put up a signal jammer after I disabled the shield. I would say sorry about that, but well… I'm not. You know, on the account of you being slavers with a penchant for torture." A calm voice called out, Bill grinning as Sterns stepped into view, much of his form still obscured by his camo-cloak, though the mechadendrite was easy for all to see as it detached itself from a security terminal lining the wall, slipping back underneath Stern's wide cloak.

Bill couldn't quite keep a sense of amusement from coming over him, even as he prepared for the upcoming battle with the clearly shocked guards across from him, as behind him he heard the Kronan call out in a slightly unsure voice.

"Uhh… right. _Now_ the revolution has begun!"

And with a roar to drown out the fighting force behind him, Bill descended upon his would-be oppressor, electricity crackling around the head of his weapon as his eyes flashed in the light of the lasers screaming back and forth.

' _Combat initialized. Selecting targets. 12 targets confirmed. Extermination in progress…'_

The front three were dealt with by a wide swing of his hammer, catching them in the knees and shins and causing them to crash to the floor with cries of pain, bone shards spearing through their dark armors, the floor immediately becoming slick with blood.

' _3.'_

Two other guards had been shot down in the meantime, even as the rest of the patrol tried to retreat to a better defensible position (which basically amounted to just about everywhere that _wasn't here_ ).

' _5.'_

Not willing to let his prey get out of the open where they were easy pickings for his allies, Bill threw his shock-hammer to the fleeing guards at the left of the group, clipping the first man in the shoulder, the guard falling to the ground in a spastic heap from the discharge of his hammer.

' _6.'_

Immediately after letting go from the weapon's handle, Bill's hands flew to the knives at his sides, his eyes already calculating proper flightpaths for the slivers of metal, taking into effect the weight of the knives, the speed of his targets, the weak points of their armor and a hundred other things at once.

Calculating the output of strength from his synthetic muscles down to a tenth of a pound of pressure, Bill let fly in a single smooth movement, one knife sinking deeply into the back of the skull of a fleeing guard, while nailing another who had taken a firing position right in the eye.

' _8.'_

During the seconds that it had taken Bill to take the fight to the guards, his allies hadn't been idle. Already, two more guards were slumped against the fall with smoking craters in their chests, while the large kronan had finally caught up to him.

' _10.'_

One of the guards managed to get a shot off on the large rock-like being, but other than a small spray of gravel and a grunt, the Kronan didn't appear to be all that effected, moving forwards undeterred.

Smacking the guard's weapon out of his hands with a single swipe of his thick arm, the Kronan stepped in close to his opponent, grabbing the man by the belt with a single hand. And then with a single great heave, lifted the guard straight off his feet and _into_ the low ceiling. Of course, the ceiling being made of a highly durable material, didn't deign to even budge in the slightest, forcing the guard's body to compress in volume quite drastically, which resulted in the Kronan being doused in a shower of purplish-red blood, though he didn't seem to really care or even notice.

' _11.'_

Bill had been observing this from the corner of his eye, but he hadn't been idle during the gruesome execution. He had seen how the last guard had fled around the corner, and in a single smooth move he followed into the slaver's footsteps. If it weren't for the fact that he could smell the ozone coming from the guard's laser weaponry, as well as pick out his panicked breathing, then he would've rounded the corner and been rewarded with a blaster bolt to the face (not that it would _stop_ him, or even _hurt_ him even, but it would be an annoyance). So instead, Bill firmly grabbed his longsword in both hands, pulled back and swung with all his might _through_ the cornerstone. In the resulting shower of gravel, Bill's eyes zoomed in and caught the flecks of blood that flew through the air as well, grim satisfaction rising in him.

Almost effortlessly, he rounded the corner and without more than a brief glance swung his sword in a wide arc to his side, imbedding it deeply into the wall. For a moment, the wounded guard (sporting a deep gash in the right side of his torso, Bill noted) simply stood and gazed at him in surprise, before the body slumped down to the floor.

The head remained resting on the flat of Bill's stuck blade.

' _12\. All targets neutralized. Exiting combat mode.'_

However, just as Bill received the message from his systems, he noticed something that disproved that statement, his eyes falling on the weakly struggling form of the guard that had held an unfortunate overconfidence in the shield separating him from Bill's wrath and who was still pinned to the wall.

' _Correction. 1 target remaining. Extermination in progress….'_

Approaching the shaking guard, Bill slightly tilted his head as he reached out and grabbed the man by his chin, forcing him to look up into Bill's eyes. Terror nearly _wafted_ off the previously arrogant guard, and Bill found an irrational dislike well up inside him, his grip on the man's chin increasing to the point that the dark metal started to warp underneath his fingers.

"I. Am _not_. A. _Robot_." Bill hissed out, before he let go off the man's chin and in a single movement, ripped the ceremonial Troru spear from the guard's chest, waiting just long enough for the body to slide down the wall, before turning back in again, slamming the tri-pronged spear into the slaver's head instead.

For a moment, a silence came over the battlefield, and Bill turned to find the majority of the gladiator's looking at him wide-eyed, many of them probably thanking whatever deity they chose to believe in that they hadn't had to force him in the ring.

Allowing his unblinking gaze to fall on the Kronan, Bill decided to push the unneeded brutality of his attacks out of his mind for now. Escape first, reminisce on actions and honorable battle after.

"We move. _Now_."

The Kronan simply lifted his hands in a calming manner, even as he blinked a bit of viscera out of the crags surrounding his eye.

"Hey man, you'll hear no judgement from me. Those guys were nasty, it's just proper that they come to a nasty end, yes? Actually, that was one of the 46 points of action on the pamphlets that I printed for my revolution: allow slaves to beat up their slavers. Of course, considering many of my people actually _are_ slavers, or in a business of similar disposition, that point proved to be rather unpopular during the rallies. Or well, only my mum and her boyfriend showed up, and I hate her boyfriend. At least my mum said she liked it, but her boyfriend certainly didn't, seeing as he actually owns a slaver barge. Probably the reason he and I don't get along, come to think of it. Though I'm sure there's _some_ kind of irony in him using that barge to deliver me here, eh?" the Kronan rambled, leaving a slightly stunned silence in his wake as the assembled gladiators simply stared at him in bafflement.

"What?"

For a moment, Bill considered telling the rock-man that, when one is in the process of staging a slave rebellion, right on the heels of reducing someone to a smear on the _ceiling_ no less, one _usually_ doesn't tend to give one's lifestory.

Looking into those earnest eyes, Bill quickly decided against it however. For one, he genuinely feared that if he tried to do so, they might be stuck here for hours on end and for another, it would feel… bad, somehow.

Like kicking a puppy.

A puppy, made of rock and weighing about as much as you'd expect a small mountain to weigh, who would have absolutely no trouble breaking your _other_ foot as well after you kicked it.

So actually, not like kicking a puppy at all, come to think about it.

"Nothing, let's just… focus on escaping, alright?"

"Sure!"

* * *

19:45 Sakaarian Time

It had taken frustratingly long to get out of the tunnels underneath the Arena. Not only were they longer than anticipated, there were also more guards than anticipated. Sure, the gladiators could make good time with most of the gates opened and the majority of the Grandmaster's forces back in the arena, but the same could be said for those same forces currently nipping at their heels.

Thankfully, the patrols in front of them were rather easily taken care of, mostly because their first reaction tended to be to grab their shockers, only to waste precious moments in surprise as Sterns' signal jammer meant that the gladiators simply kept on charging.

Bill had quickly given up on disabling his opponents, instead simply knocking them down with wide swings of his hammer or just headbutting them instead, leaving them to be trampled by the horde behind him.

The goal wasn't bloodshed, no matter the slaves' feeling towards their previous captors, but _escape_ after all.

So after roughly twenty minutes of running as fast as he could without outstripping the majority of the other gladiators, hoping that the stragglers would buy the rest of them enough time in order to escape the small army at their back, Bill finally smashed down the gate leading to the outside world by throwing his hammer full force at the center of the offending piece of metal, carrying the thick slab straight off its hinges and _into_ the wall of the building on the opposite side of the street.

Thankfully, the majority of the people of Sakaar City were either in the Arena or in their homes, eagerly anticipating his upcoming match, meaning the streets were virtually empty. Running over towards the shock-hammer and wresting it from the ruined metal that used to be a door, Bill turned to look over his shoulder at the Kronan, who was already organizing people to lay down covering fire for the rear guard.

"Remember! Hangars are on the top floor of _that_ metallic blue-silver building! Any portal will do, just make sure to get out of here!"

"Aren't you coming with us?!" the Kronan called, before turning, taking aim and blowing off the head of a guard who was about to lob a grenade down the hallway, instead causing it to fall amongst the rest of the guards.

There was a brief flurry of movement and panicked shouting, even as the Kronan turned back to face him with an honest expression. And then there was a wave of sound and light and sheer _heat_ , many of the gladiators throwing themselves to the ground with their hands clasped over their ears (wherever applicable of course).

The Kronan hadn't even looked at the explosion behind him, simply looking at Bill with an earnest expression of polite interest on his face.

"I have my own means of transportation."

"Oh! Alrighty then, though if you ever change your mind, you're always free to tag along with us, if you want. We always got a place for a superstrong cyborg like yourselves. At least, I hope we will. Not sure which ship we're gonna steal yet, so if it's a tiny one, yeah, we might _not_ have a place left, but you could always, you know, catch-up with us?"

"And how exactly would I do that, Kronan?" Bill asked with some amusement at the rock-like being's casual tone of conversation in the midst of mortal danger, the other gladiators slowly working themselves back to their feet.

"Oh, just ask around on Ria for Korg, that's me! Uh, come to think about it, you might not wanna do that. They don't like me much back there. How do you feel about the more physical conversation starters?"

" _Physical…_ conversation starters…." Bill repeated flatly, Korg simply smiling brightly as he proudly placed his fists on his hips.

"Yeah, mace to the face, fist to the face, rock to the face, fist _made_ of rock to the face, that kinda thing. It tends to be common back home you see. It becomes _even_ more common if you mention me, I'd wager."

"… I've had worse."

"Great! Now then, if you'll excuse me, I think that the guards are about to attempt to either charge again or try and flank us, so we'll be going to steal a ship, navigate to the closest portal and then hope we don't get dropped into a black hole! Thanks for busting us out Beta-Ray Bill!"

Bill looked on in amusement as the energetic Kronan quickly ordered his comrades to spread out and use the various back-alleys in order to spread out before navigating towards the hangars where they'd rendezvous, before taking off himself with heavy steps, disappearing from sight shortly after.

"Unusual guy." A voice suddenly spoke up from beside his right shoulder, and it was only because Bill's body was incapable of making unconscious motions that he didn't flinch or lash out.

"Very." He grumbled as he pointedly glared at Sterns, who he just _knew_ was grinning up at him.

"Well, he wasn't wrong about the guards though, so let's get the hell outta here, ok?"

"Fine. Where is our means of escape?"

"Right here."

Again, it was only Bill's cybernetic nature that kept him from flinching as out of nowhere a vehicle appeared to stand beside his _other_ shoulder. The worst part was that _somehow_ , the vehicle seemed to radiate the _exact_ same kind of amusement as Sterns just had (and was in fact doing again).

At his unspoken question, the scientist merely shrugged, before moving towards the driver's seat (the door opened without any prompting from the mutated human, Bill noticed).

"Oliver is… unique like that. Hop in."

Walking over towards the other door (which again opened without any apparent prompting) Bill warily eyed the futuristic interior, though he was shaken from his thoughts by Sterns' words.

"Oh will you just get in, you big baby? Oliver won't _bite_!"

Just as Bill steeled himself and worked himself into the cabin, leaning back into the (admittedly _very_ comfortable) seat, did he hear Sterns mutter under his breath.

"At least I _hope_ not."

So what if he held his hammer a bit tighter after that? It wasn't every day that you met vehicles of questionable sentience, so he felt that a bit of wariness was perfectly warranted. Especially when it looks as if it's meant to slowly roll down the streets, but instead immediately takes off into the sky at a ninety degree angle with enough speed to produce no less than three sonic booms in the span of a less than a minute.

It was a matter of moments to cross the city and approach the Grandmaster's Palace's highest level. Despite knowing what came next, Bill couldn't quite stop himself from tightly gripping his hammer as Sterns steered Oliver towards the large viewing windows of the Grandmaster's throne room, accelerating instead of slowing down.

They were mere feet away from becoming flatter than pancakes when Sterns slammed on a button, a humming sound springing to life even as a transparent orange-golden glow started shimmering around Oliver.

And with a sound reminiscent of a hundred different viewing screens suddenly showing static at the same time, Oliver went _through_ the viewing screen of the throne room, without leaving so much as a scratch on the glass.

Slowly unclenching his extremely tight grip on the handle of his weapon, Bill looked over at the absolute madman next to him, who was proudly patting the steering wheel of his magical vehicle (because _whatever_ the hell _that_ was supposed to have been, it _definitely_ wasn't any science that Bill had ever hear of).

"Are you insane?" Bill asked, slightly proud that the question came out as an honest inquiry rather than an incredulous statement.

Sterns turned to look at him, though he didn't stop petting Oliver's steering wheel.

"If I was, would I tell you? For that matter, would I even know? I think it's best if you just stop questioning things and take things as they are, while trying to simply have a good time. It certainly worked for me after my friend got turned into a ghost, I can tell you that."

For a moment, cyborg and scientist merely stared at each other, before Bill conceded defeat and turned away from Sterns (who was _still_ patting Oliver's steering wheel) and jumped out of the miracle vehicle.

"Let's just get this done."

* * *

Grandmaster's personal archives  
19:50 Sakaarian Time

Due to the chaos caused by the escaping gladiators, who were either making a run for the numerous portals dotting the Sakaarian sky or freeing more and more slaves, Bill and Sterns barely met any resistance as they made their way towards the Grandmaster's databanks, which were located several rooms down from the dictator's master bedroom.

Oliver had turned to the size of a mere toy and was happily whirring away as it followed in Sterns' footsteps. Bill simply wasn't sure just how much of a metaphor 'happily' was in that sentence.

Only a light guard was still at their stations, and they had yet to meet a single patrol. Those few guards that were still guarding the Palace were swiftly taken care off by Bill's thrown knives or Sterns' silenced gun (at first, Bill thought that the fearsome weapon disintegrated organics with a single shot, but a second glance showed small smears of meat in their place instead. Which _still_ made it a fearsome weapon, to be honest).

The bodies that Bill left were easily disposed of by Sterns simply shooting their corpses, turning them into goo. Part of Bill didn't feel at ease with such disrespect for the fallen bodies of his adversaries.

The larger part however, the part that remembered his time in captivity, the broken oaths of their master, the possible fate of his people, that part of him absolutely couldn't give a fuck about what happened to those guards as long as it meant that his chances of getting off this rock improved by even the slightest margin.

Now they were at the terminal housing the Grandmaster's data, with Sterns having three of his mechanical arms plugged into the bulky piece of equipment. His priority were the star charts of course, but considering the sheer age of the Grandmaster, both Sterns and Hyperion were eager to see what else they could lift from the man's computers if they had the chance.

Bill simply wanted to leave this place behind and never look back again.

While Sterns was doing his work, Bill stood by the door, peering into the hallway through a crack in the door. It was because of this that Bill spotted a woman approaching them long before Sterns did. She was swaying, and her eyes were unfocused. Bill watched her as she randomly kept opening the doors that lined the hallway, peeking her head in before dejectedly moving on.

"There's _got_ to be booze around here somewhere, right? I _know_ , I just _know_ that flamboyant dude keeps around casks of Indroin liquor. Now where is the damned stuff…" the woman slurred, apparently wasted enough that her speech gave Bill's translator some troubles.

However, her speech was the very least of Bill's concerns: she was heading their way. Bill's hand creeped towards the handle of one of his knives, before he stilled as the woman instead turned towards the door on the opposite side of the hallway. His interest peaked when that door appeared to be locked, which apparently pissed the woman off enough to punch the door _clear off its hinges_.

Bill's combat systems immediately reassessed the woman's threat level.

' _A Rank at least. Level of strength compared to relatively little body-mass means target most likely Asgardian. Cross-referencing… 1 result found in Grandmaster's forces: Scrapper-142. History of slaves brought in suggest either higher than average strength or combat capabilities. Correcting current profile. Target is A- Rank. Options of extermination: Hand to hand combat._ _ **Negative**_ _, too long/loud. Knife-throwing._ _ **Negative**_ _, blade may not penetrate skin of target (deeply enough). Shock-hammer._ _ **Negative**_ _, too loud, see Hand to Hand. S. Sterns, current designation:_ _ **Absolute Madman**_ _, in possession of one-hit kill weapon._ _ **Affirmative**_ _.'_

As the door completed its arc through the air and crash-landed into the room with an enormous bang, Bill turned to face Sterns, who had been visibly startled by the sudden noise.

"Sterns. We have trouble incoming. If we want to keep whatever shreds of stealth there remain after that, I'm going to need your gun." Bill softly said under his breath, Sterns replying equally cautiously.

"Of course. Be careful with it. It's one shot per squeeze, not a continuous beam, so easy with the trigger. And, obviously, _do_ _ **not**_ point it at _any_ part of your body at all. Not even I can save you then."

"Affirmative." Bill simply said, smoothly taking the gun from Sterns outstretched hand, before turning back towards the door.

It appeared that, after thoroughly thrashing the room, the woman hadn't found any inebriating concoctions in there either, evident in her angry expression as she stomped out of the room, her appearance already a lot sobered up from what it was before, a credit to Asgardian constitution.

"What's the fucking point of even staying in this shit hole if I can't even be drunk while I'm here?" the woman groused as she stomped towards the door Bill and Sterns were hiding behind, throwing them open with ease.

For just the slightest of moments, her eyes widened as her expression turned to one of shock as she suddenly gazed at Bill's impassive face, before the moment passed as Bill finished squeezing the trigger of Sterns' weapon and all that remained of Scrapper-142 was a barely noticeable smear on the floor.

Closing the doors again, Bill settled into wait, gun at the ready as he waited for Sterns to finish data-mining the Grandmaster's databanks. He only had to wait for a few minutes more, muscles tensing every time that his audio-receptors caught the sound of boots slamming against the floors, but it seems that something (or rather, _someone_ ) on the lower levels was demanding their more immediate attention.

"Got it! Coordinates of every major hub in the Galaxy, both legal and for the criminal underworld! And just about every major trading route as well. Man, the Grandmaster seems to have really gotten around hasn't he? In the _physical_ sense I mean, you know, not the… uhh, _sexual_ one…"

"Can we leave then?" Bill simply asked, ignoring Sterns' rambling.

"Well, I'm _really_ interested in what else the man has got stashed away here, but in the interest of not pushing our luck, yeah, let's get out of here." Sterns said, unplugging from the terminal as his mechandrites returned underneath his cloak.

Checking both ends of the hallway, Bill gave Sterns a quick nod, before they dashed out of the room and started running towards the throne room, Bill making sure to adjust his pace so that Sterns could keep up. The only obstacle in their way was a single guardsman walking out of what appeared to be the lavatories, who was still struggling with his zipper and thus didn't see the two fugitives until they were nearly upon him.

Not willing to waste any more time inside the building than necessary, Bill didn't stop running and instead stuck out his arm instead, performing a lariat strong enough that it slammed the guard into the ground with such force his body nearly folded in on itself, his knees planted on the floor on either side of his head.

Neither Bill nor Sterns halted in their movements to spare the already dead guard even a second glance as they dashed towards the throne room, where Oliver finally had the room to expand to his full size.

This time, Bill had no trouble jumping into the cabin, Sterns immediately revving Oliver's engine (which caused a piercing blue light to shine brightly from underneath the vehicles' hood), the truck's tires spinning on the smooth floor as Sterns performed a handbrake turn. Facing the windows again, Sterns once again drove at full speed towards the solid surface, and despite knowing what was coming Bill couldn't help but feel apprehension clawing at his gut as the sped closer and closer towards the highly durable material.

And then there was the sound of static, and they were soaring through the air, nobody the wiser that they were there or where they had just been.

"Right. So. Where and how will we meet Hyperion?" Bill asked, more to keep his mind off of things rather than any lapse in his perfect memories.

"Well, we should see the signal any moment now, and after that I'll just set down Oliver, de-cloak so he can see us, load him onboard, cloak again and then punch a hole in the fabric of space-time and make our escape, which should be made easier due to the dogfighting surrounding the portals. Nobody will be on the lookout for any alternative methods off this planet, so we should be in the clear."

"The signal. Hyperion was vague on what he would end up using. Any theories?"

"He named himself after a mythological being of Flame and Light from our home-planet's ancient histories. I think we'll know it when we see it: he tends to live up to the name."

Before Bill could ask Sterns what he meant, a circle of light exploded outwards from the base of the Grandmaster's tower, demolishing much of the structure and covering the surrounding buildings in debris and fire.

"Something like that?" Bill asked dryly, indicating the destruction with an incline of his head, his mind already simulating how the immense tower would fall.

It would (mostly) collapse in on itself, but the sheer amount and weight of material that would come crashing down to the surface would still cause a shockwave that would probably wipe the surrounding buildings off the map of Sakaar.

Then again, those buildings were either barracks or belonged to the socialites of Sakaar, so Bill wasn't exactly sad to see them go, though he felt sorry for any innocents caught in the destruction (insomuch as that Sakaar _has_ any innocents, that is).

"Well, that _does_ look like Michael, yes. Let's wait for the debris to settle a bit first before going in close. I do _not_ fancy getting trapped underneath that massive structure: imagine what it could do to Oliver's paintjob!"

Bill looked over at the scientist in slight surprise, belatedly reminding himself that in order to convey that emotion with his face, he should raise his eyebrows.

"Your colleague… your _friend_ just brought an entire building down upon himself… and you are worried about this vehicle's _paintjob_?"

Sterns waved away his question though.

"Michael will be _fine_. Something like this isn't enough to kill him. He'll show up any second now, wait and see."

As if the man had heard his friend's words, Bill's vision (as zoomed in as far is it would go) caught a brief golden blur smash outwards of the crumbling base of the collapsing tower. The glow quickly faded as the figure moved away from the destruction and mayhem at unnatural speeds, before it's camo-cloak came back online again, though parts of it were damaged, Bill noticed, spotting brief glimpses of shining gold.

The figure disappeared from view in the labyrinthine neighborhoods of Sakaar City, though Sterns appeared to be undeterred, simply letting his hands dance across Oliver's dashboard, before tapping the side of his helmet twice.

"This is Oscar to Mike, I repeat, this is Oscar to Mike, can you read me?"

A voice responded with such clarity, for a brief moment Bill thought that somehow Hyperion had suddenly appeared in the seat next to him (after all, this group seemed rather fond of sneaking up on him if even their transportation was in on it).

"Yeah, I read you Oscar. I can't see you though, not even on my HUD."

"Correct Mike. I made Oscar broadcast a wide jamming signal in order to give the escaped slaves a fighting chance. Other than communication, it's impossible for us to have any other form of contact, and even communication took some clever thinking on my part. Can you describe your current position for pick up?"

"Copy that Oscar. Uhh… everything kinda looks the same to be honest. It's all big, it's all bulky and it's all _filthy_ as well. Wait, hang on. Alright, I am about two, maybe three streets away from the Public Library, it's a bit hard to tell with how twisting the roads are here."

"Copy that Mike, give us five minutes-"

Sterns' speech was cut off by a sound so loud that it was almost a physical thing, slamming into them with such force that it caused a brief static in Bill's more delicate inner systems. He was pretty sure that if he still had lungs, they would've reverberated with the sound that the crashing Grandmaster's Palace had produced upon slamming into Sakaar, the entire city trembling down to the bedrock.

A great gale of dust and sheer force slammed outwards from the impact zone, blasting the nearest buildings back and carrying debris away for hundreds upon hundreds of feet. The streets were buried in ash and dust, while most building lost their windows and a few of them even caught fire.

Looking at the chaos below, Sterns paused briefly before clearing his throat.

"Right, make that about eight minutes."

Light coughing came from Oliver's speakers, before they heard Hyperion's aggravated voice.

"Just… make it snappy, please."

"You got it boss."

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Taika Waititi (the director of Thor: Ragnarok) provided both the voices and motion-capture for Surtur as well as Korg. He didn't intend to, but he kept doing their lines while directing scenes with Hemsworth, who liked it so much that he managed to convince the director to do the lines himself anyway. Korg's line about the tri-pronged spear being only useful for fighting off three vampires at once is a shout-out to _What We Do In the Shadows_ , a movie that he directed, and starred in, alongside Jemaine Clement of _Flight of the Concords_ and _Moana_ fame, where they play two of a trio of "vegetarian" vampires who are just trying to be cool.

 **AN:** Originally, I was also going to include Michael's POV, but honestly, I'm tired and I really should get back to writing my _other_ paper which I need to turn in soon (I honestly should get started on that one of these days). Actually, the reason why you guys even got the chapter in the first place was because I _didn't_ want to write that paper and ended up writing this instead.

For all the Earth terms that Bill uses in this chapter, like measurements and a puppy, I _could've_ substituted them with random words like Fobsnarks and Glipsdorpts, but that would've come across as silly. So instead, just picture his thoughts being translated to you, the reader. It's something similar as to why we can hear Thor beg "dear God" despite being, you know, a God himself.

Now, on to some less great news. 12 Steps is killing me. Or at least, killing my creative vibe. I have so many different ideas for different stories, but each time I can't get started on writing them because I feel that I need to finish this one first and it. Just. Doesn't. _End_! Each time I want to blaze through events in order to advance the plot, characters keep hijacking the chapter and getting _way_ more dialogue than they're supposed to! Hell, Korg was supposed to have _one fucking line!_ Jezus! Still, I'm not giving up on the story. I've come too far, and you people have been way too awesome in supporting this story for me to give up now and I want to see Michael finally becoming Omnipotent just as much as you do. However, I will try to be even more forceful in pushing the plot forwards from here on out, which will definitely mean a drop in quality and probably quite a lot less dialogue. I've already decided with myself that I am not adding new characters to the roster (no, wait… three, yeah I'll add three… _maybe_ four… or five) since they just take up too much space. It's why I left out Miek and why I killed off Valkyrie. Hell, from the people that Michael might end up recruiting, only one might have an actual arc within the story, the others will be more background noise like Potter and Pangborn.

Phew! It feels good to have that off my chest. So yeah, don't be alarmed when the quality starts dropping, just know that it is a necessary sacrifice in order to finally get this story to where it needs to be in the plot. Until next time (probably mid-February or something) stay awesome.

 _I would like to express my thanks to Miu, Justlovereadin, Daniel Dorfman, Carn Krauss, Samuel Carson, Thordur Hrafn, ReaperScythe and Fakhrurrozi for their continued support! It really does mean a lot to me, so thanks again!_


	43. First Contact

_**First contact**_

* * *

Getting back to Oliver proved to be both easy as well as somewhat difficult. The chaos caused by the Grandmaster's Tower collapsing meant that it there was a stampede of fleeing people, desperate to put as much distance between them and the centre of destruction as humanly (or rather, alienly) possible. This meant that actually moving stealthily in all of this rampant chaos was somewhat difficult to accomplish.

Thankfully, the sheer state of panic currently overtaking Sakaar meant that there wasn't really all that much need for stealth. Oliver dropped down to a back alley and decloaked while Bill threw open the door. We didn't even get so much as a second glance from the fleeing aliens as I jumped into the vehicle of questionable sentience, slamming the door behind me.

"Sterns? Take us out."

"Where to?"

"Xandar."

"Aye aye, Captain."

Immediately, Oliver takes off, quickly winding through a few tight turns down ruined alleys before Sterns takes him into the sky, though we stay at around the same height as the surrounding buildings. Sterns only takes a moment to push several buttons on Oliver's extensively modified dash, before he grabs the lever at his side and gleefully slams it forwards.

Once more, our entire world is engulfed in burning blue as Space itself bows down to our whims. In a moment that stretches longer than infinity and yet is shorter than the span between seconds, we leave Sakaar in our wake, and emerge...

"Sterns? Where the hell are we?"

The Mad Scientist first spends a few seconds shutting down most of Oliver's systems, leaving only a soft glow from some parts of Oliver's dashboard to illuminate the now silent cabin. Looking out through the windshield, I can see only nothingness in our surroundings. Far off to my left there's a bright spot of light: a sun, probably several lightyears away. We are alone here, with only the gorgeous backdrop off the galaxy as a beautiful, yet far off, decor piece.

Wherever we are, it sure as hell ain't Xandar.

"Well, I _could_ have just beamed us into the lobby of the Nova Corps, but that would have been rather... _noticeable_ , and then creating these camo-cloaks would have been for nothing." Sterns answers easily.

"I understand that, but couldn't you have dropped us closer? The dark side of their moon perhaps?"

This time it is Bill who speaks up.

"For a man who knows so much about the Galaxy, you are certainly naïve about certain things."

I briefly glance at Bill from the corner of my eye, before it's almost automatically drawn back to the beautiful glimmering vista of greens and blues stretched out as far as the eye can see.

"I understand that, Xandar being the capital of the Nova Empire, they probably have advanced security surrounding the planet, but seriously? Oliver's capabilities, combined with interplanetary distance? You are saying even _that_ is insufficient precaution?"

"It might be. It also might _not_ be. Michael, Xandar lies at the heart of one of, if not _the_ biggest empire the galaxy has seen. The technological requirements for smooth communication on such a scale probably means that they can hear a mouse fart two systems over. Even if they can't find Oliver when he's cloaked, they'll _definitely_ know that _something_ entered close to their home planet, and amp their security. Especially now that the empire is on high alert 'cause of the whole Kree-mess."

I sigh in defeat as I turn away from my friend, half-heartedly scanning the clouds of cosmic dust that are _so_ vast, they appear close enough to touch, despite the fact that there's more distance between us than between the sun and the outer reaches of the solar system. I shouldn't have relied on my movie-knowledge so much. Sure, we see Rocket and Groot already on Xandar when Peter is trying to sell the Orb, apparently having gotten through customs just fine even with Rocket's arsenal. And sure, Ronan manages to surprise the Xandarians by showing up in their upper atmosphere despite piloting one of the largest ships shown in the MCU. And _sure_ , Thanos apparently manage to succeed where Ronan failed and wiped Xandar of the Galactic Map _off-screen_.

So sue me for getting cocky and thinking that we could just barge in as well. Of course the rules of logic would throw a wrench in my plan by reminding reality that you couldn't be the centre of an interstellar galactic empire with a security system _that_ shitty.

Come to think of it, why on Earth did the Guardians think that leaving the Power Stone with the Nova Corpse was a good idea to begin with, when all of them slipped past their security forces multiple times and literally _just_ witnessed the entire planet almost getting destroyed?

"You know what? _Fine_. We'll do it your way."

"Of course we are." Sterns says smugly, before he activates thrusters all over Oliver's body, angling us towards a tight cluster of stars, before gaining a worryingly large grin again.

"God I love doing this."

And with those words, he slams the lever forwards, and our world turns to blue again.

* * *

As it turns out, Sterns dropped us back into regular Space on the edges of the inner ring of tri-solar system around which Xandar orbited. This still left us at nearly an Astronomical Units (the distance from the centre of the earth to the centre of the sun, equalling almost 150 million kilometres) away from our targets. With Oliver's rockets being supplied by the Tesseract, we should be there within about nine hours, completely undetected to the myriad of satellites and measuring facilities of the Nova Empire. Instead of going over 16 million kilometres an hour in real space, Sterns' used Oliver's Tesseract-engine, to instead bend space around us.

It wasn't slamming through a portal like we did when we entered and left Sakaar, this was more... trawling through a narrow tube. Or something like that. Sterns tried to explain, and while I could initially follow him, he eventually got exited and started talking so enthusiastically and fast, he might as well be speaking another language entirely (for all that I knew, he just might have been).

While travelling like this was _way_ slower, at least it would be far less detectable: at most, an observant Xandarian might see fluctuations in the background static of the universe, but it would hardly be anything worthy of concern.

Given that going over the plan for when we actually landed on Xandar only took us about ten minutes (and that was because I insisted we go over it _twice_ ) we ended up with a lot of time on our hands as we slowly cruised towards our destination.

Eventually we ended up filling that time with playing "I spy".

Finally, after four and a half hours, we saw Xandar far away on the horizon (as much as you can actually _have_ a horizon in the depths of space that is), like a shiny blue marble. Despite it being only slightly larger than Earth while being a Galactic hub of communication and transportation, it had far less space trash than Earth did.

While Earth was encased in a thin layer of metal and debris, Xandar only sported about half a dozen truly massive space-stations, as well as about 200 smaller stations and satellites, thousands and thousands less than what Earth currently had in order to provide only for itself and the few satellites within the solar system. Of course, with advanced technology comes more powerful satellites as well as better options for clearing up space trash, but the level of care that Xandar dedicated to keeping even its exosphere neat and tidy said a lot about its people.

 _And_ it's tech-level.

Still, even an advanced alien civilisation wasn't capable of going toe-to-toe with Sterns' greatest pride, and after dropping out of our Tesseract-induced piece of distorted Space (which I ended up calling a Boom-tube and the name stuck) a few hundred kilometres away from Xandar's outer reaches, we soundlessly glided past the viewing port of the largest space station, completely unnoticed.

It takes a human spaceshuttle about 150 seconds to go from the ground to outer space. Oliver, being the pride and joy of the most dangerous man humanity has ever produced (thanks to yours truly), could make mincemeat out of that. Unfortunately, we couldn't go anywhere near those kinds of speeds, due to the vast, varied and powerful scanners of the Xandarians keeping an eye on their pristine planet. As a result, and in order to keep Oliver's cloaking intact (we could be invisible all we wanted, but if we went fast enough to cause enough friction to start burning the air around us, the Xandarians were still going to notice something was up) we had to slow down.

A _lot_.

Still though, within twenty minutes, I set foot upon the soil of Xandar, breathing in its clean sky. After overlooking the surrounding forests and meadows with a critical eye, and sweeping the surrounding area for any sentient minds, I turn towards my companions.

"Alright then. We all know what to do: let's get to it."

"Sure thing Michael."

"Indeed."

* * *

Entering the city centre was fairly easy, due to the massive amount of sentients that moved in and out of its confines. All the three of us had to do was move along with the flow of the river of people, our bodyshapes barely even getting a second glance from hurried passerby's. Several Star Blaster's sheered by close overhead, causing us to tense the first few times, but whatever their destination, they didn't seem to bothered with the massive amount of people below. There seemed to be only a very slight Nova Corpse presence on the ground, which was rather baffling when you considered that this planet had almost twice the amount of people on it that Earth did... and that's _without_ the people who are just passing through!

Then again, I certainly hadn't expected this city to be so _clean_. Yeah, it looks tidy and all in GotG, but I'm standing in the middle of what appears to be one of the main squares of the city, hordes of people rushing past as Bill, Sterns and I slowly take a seat on the edge of one of the many fountains that can be found all over the megacity.

And yet, the air here tastes and smells as fresh as when it did far up in the mountain ranges.

Say whatever you want about the Xandarians, but they sure as hell got the management of the public sphere completely mastered.

"Alright guys, I got a map of the entire city here. We are currently _here_." Sterns speaks up, holding a holographic screen up for me and Bill, a small red dot in the centre.

"The main library, where I'll be going, is _here_." He continues, as a green line quickly forms from the dot to a cluster of buildings closer to the centre of the city.

"The main communication portals for the less... _legal_ off-world contacts, including the mercenary and bounty hunter message boards, are located _here_."

A blue line forms over the map, heading off to an area that's closer to the outer edges of the city limits.

"Now, from what I managed to dig up, which was a lot, considering most of this is public information, _your_ location is located in the less savoury neighbourhood, but considering the rest of this city, I'm not really sure if that's saying much."

Bill shrugs, before elaborating when he sees mine and Sterns' questioning looks.

"Xandar has a reputation for being the crowning achievement of civilisation all over the Galaxy. You won't find any slums on this planet. That being said however, off-world business that they don't exactly approve of, but do not _actively_ oppose, is something they rather have stay out of sight. Meaning no Nova Corps presence, and a majority alien population. As far as command is concerned, so long as they're not making any _notable_ mess, that part of town simply does not exist. Of course, that works just fine for the more respectable crews, like the better kind of Ravagers. The real scumbags don't even get to set foot on the planet, the crews already operating here too scared that the Nova Corps gets too annoyed and shuts down this little arrangement if they do. They effectively police themselves. So yes, it won't be a slum as most of those type of places usually are, but _don't_ expect the type of civilisation you see here: someone pulls a blaster on you, you either make sure that you drew yours first, or you and your credits will be easily parted. Or you and your head. Depends on the day, really."

"Right! So no worries then!" Sterns says brightly, as he closes the holographic map and stand up, brushing off his camo-cloak.

"So, how you wanna meet up again later Michael?"

"Don't worry. Me and Bill will come to the library. If you haven't found the coordinates of Morag by then, we can help you look. If you _did_ find it before we are finished with our business, well, then there's no reason to not brush up on our knowledge of the wider known Galaxy when we _just_ so happen to stand within one of the most premier libraries in said Galaxy, now is there?" I say with a small smile, getting a grin from Sterns, who is already looking forwards to burying himself in mounds of alien knowledge.

"Ha! I'll be done within five minutes! By the time you guys get your asses over there, I'll already be fluent in both Rhalidian _and_ Zilzi!" he boasts, before he struts off towards Xandar's library, throwing a cheeky wave over his shoulder as he leaves.

Bill and I remain seated on the low edge of the fountain for a few moments, just looking at the eggheaded scientist with a raised eyebrow, before I turn to face the cybernetic warrior sitting next to me.

At my unspoken question, Bill gives another shrug.

"The former are a race with tentacles instead of a mouth. The latter are a conglomerate of sub-organisms. Honestly, I didn't even realize they _had_ a language."

"Knowing Sterns, they might not have. That won't stop him though."

With those words, I stand up, briefly stretching as Bill follows my lead, before I turn on my heel and start striding with purpose towards my destination, Sterns' map memorized the moment I had looked at it.

"C'mon, let's go. Maybe we'll get back in time before Sterns reads through the entirety of the Nova Empire's library."

It takes a few moments before I can hear Bill's feet following me in my footsteps, and I don't need to look over my shoulder to know that the alien is shaking his head.

"Oh ancestors, how did I end up with these mad-men?"

I just grin and keep on walking.

* * *

Bill wasn't wrong when he said that the less savoury parts of Xandar might as well not be part of the greater whole at all. It isn't just in the subtly different architecture, or in the more noticeable grime that you'd expect to find in a mega-city, but it's the very air itself.

Where the air in Xandar's centre is clean and breezy, here it's thick and cloying, carrying the scents of afterburners and people with it.

It's even worse when we step into the _Xilid's Tail_ (a bipedal species _without_ any tail whatsoever, or so Bill tells me), smoke hitting me in the face as if it were a physical curtain. Looking over the dingy cantina, with its poor lighting and rugged patrons, I can't help a large grin spreading over my face.

It's as if every single cantina in every single Star Wars media was condensed into a single place, and then re-fitted to match the MCU style. Meaning leather-clad thugs were playing cards around a circular table with blasters hanging from their hips, but with enormous holographic screens lining the back wall (honestly doing more for the lighting than the tubes lining the ceiling did).

I try to move to the terminals where people can put up job requests and bounties with some measure of grace, trying to not knock into someone on my way there. However, due to my size (and not to mention this being a cinematic universe) it's an inevitability.

It's a non-human looking guy, either the same species that got it nose abused by Groot in the first GotG movie, or something close to that. It's somewhat hard to tell due to his duster and wide-brimmed hat. It's not even like he's trying to be a douche or something, obviously walking into me as an excuse for a fight, like you see so often in movies. He's simply just taking his order from the bar (three large mugs with a hissing green liquid in them) when I approach, and the moment I'm behind him he turns around to return to his seat, causing the two of us to crash into each other.

Amazing reflexes or not, in such a tight space there's not much that I can do, and I only succeed in not getting any of the green stuff on myself. The downside of that, of course, is that it is now all over him instead.

The crash is loud enough (and perhaps he is notorious enough) that the surrounding patrons immediately fall silent, eager anticipation on their varied faces as they look on while the huge alien looks down at his ruined duster.

Looking up from his soaked clothes in order to gaze into my eyes (being the first person in quite a while that I've met that doesn't need to look up in order to do so. In fact, he's just a tad larger than I am), I can already tell that I'm not going to talk my way out of this.

Briefly I consider the Mind Stone, but I dismiss the idea. While it would make my life easier in the short term, there were a _lot_ of spectators. They'd become suspicious if what appeared to be a well known heavy hitter ended up backing down from a fight without an apparent reason, which might get to the wrong people (literally anyone even _remotely_ connected to Thanos or his forces). Of course, I could just mind-whammy _everyone_ inside (minus Bill), but that'd be even more suspicious.

No, best to rely on the Stones as little as possible when around aliens with access to the intergalactic communications network. That way I can be assured of flying underneath Thanos' radar.

By the time I've settled on a course of action, the brute in front of me has worked through the events of the past few seconds, and now anger clouds his eyes.

"You owe me a new coat."

Still trying to defuse the situation, I keep my arms loose at my side, palms open and visible, while my voice is smooth and calming.

"That seems fair. How many units do you need to take care of the damages?"

The blue-skinned alien narrows his pig-like eyes for a moment, before he gives a wide grin, showing off flat yellowed teeth.

"10,000 units."

Despite myself, I can't quite keep myself from scoffing.

"That's ridiculous and you know it."

"It ain't ridiculous. This was a _very_ nice coat. My Ma gave it to me. It's got sentimental value. 10,000 units, reparation for the physical _and_ the emotional damage."

"Really? You, _emotional_?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, causing the thug to let out a deep chuckle as he cracks his wrists, his biceps straining the leather around his arms to their absolute limits.

"What can I say? I'm just an emotional kinda guy."

"Well, if that's the case, then I apologize. That must have hurt."

Confusion replaces the earlier anger in his small eyes, as he tilts his head at me.

"Huh? What hurt?"

"This."

And with that, my arm shoots up, my hand closing around the right side of his head. He has just enough time to widen his eyes, before I flare my strength and slam his head into the bar, shattering its surface, and leaving a respectable dent. Straightening the alien in my grasp, I see that he's still conscious, causing me to give a dissatisfied frown.

This time, I put more effort in and slam him halfway _through_ the bar.

He doesn't remain conscious after that one.

I hear movement behind me, and a quick glance shows me that two aliens have pulled their blasters out and are aiming it at my back. The rest of the customers seems wary of me, but thankfully not eager to jump in on the action. Refocusing on the two aliens, I can see they're wearing the same type of duster as the big guy I just put down... and as one shifts, the light of the holographic screens behind him briefly illuminates the flame like pendant pinned to his chest.

Fuck.

Ravagers.

"You asshole! What the hell did ya need to do that for, huh!?" the guy on the right says, fairly humanoid looking if not for the fact that his species apparently saw no need to evolve a nose.

Placing one hand on my hip and rubbing the back of my head with the other, I give a self-conscious chuckle.

"Well, I _might_ have slightly overreacted a _tiny_ amount-"

"Are you kidding me! You ruined my bar! You got any plans for paying for that?!" I hear the bartender call out behind me in anger, and looking over my shoulder, I can see that he's holding the intergalactic cousin of the double gauge shotgun.

It looks rather intimidating, I'll give him that much.

"Of course sir. I'll pay for the damages to your bar. _However_ , I cannot do so if those two gentlemen insist on shooting me, as I will then be on the run from the Nova Empire."

"You mean you'll be too _dead_ to pay 'im!" the alien on the left yells out, appearing much like a regular human.

If that human filed his teeth to points, that is.

This time, I smile while my eyes turn into burning inferno's, something in the look causing the two would-be shooters to suddenly blanch white (and for most of the other patrons to quickly avert their heads as well).

" _No_..." I say patiently, allowing my grin to grow wider.

"I mean that, _if_ you shoot me, I'll decorate the inside of this cantina... with _your_ insides. Now, the Nova Empire tolerates a lot, but even they will have no choice but to jump in at that point, and that of course will force me to commit mass-murder, arson and wholesale destruction of government property _again_ , after which I'll have to find another system to find some peace and quiet. It's just so much hassle over a couple of spilled drinks, wouldn't you agree?"

The whole time that I had been talking, the two unfortunate Ravagers had been looking steadily more and more scared out of their minds, causing me to use much of my rather considerate willpower in order to not burst out into laughter on the spot. Instead, I keep up my threatening act.

"So what say you to the following: I buy you three a new round of drinks, I go my way, you go your way, and that way you _won't_ be screaming as you die in horrible and inventive new ways. Hmm?"

For a moment, the two seem willing to back down, before they look at the other patrons in the club, and their eyes harden. Apparently, they dislike the idea of losing face in front of their colleagues even more than actually losing their face.

Metaphorically of course, I wouldn't do that... unless they _really_ pissed me off.

"You're bluffing." The guy with the filed teeth hissed, and he and his comrade both straighten their arms as they prepare to shoot.

However, before they can do so, a bronze-skinned hand clamps down on each head, gripping with enough force to lift them bodily off the floor, causing the two would-be murderers to cry out in pain as they drop their guns and start clawing at the vices around their scalps.

"I'd prefer it if you wouldn't shoot my friend. We're _supposed_ to be taking it easy. Razing a city _wasn't_ on the agenda, and I'd like to keep it that way." Comes the deep bass from Beta-Ray Bill, whose looking between the two trapped Ravagers with an annoyed look, before he fixes me with an exasperated gaze.

"You couldn't abstain from violence for just _ten minutes_? Really?"

I sputter in protest at his accusing gaze.

"You heard him! 10,000 units, just for some spilled drinks?! That coat couldn't have been more than a 100 units when it was brand new, and forgive me for doubting whether his mother _actually_ made it-"

"She did though." A reedy voice pipes up from my left, causing me to turn to the aged speaker (an old woman with deep indigo eyes and blue teeth) with a surprised look, earning me a shrug.

"I know her from way back. Owns a clothes shop. Made that one for him when he set out to join the Ravagers."

"Oh." I say in surprise, before I look down at the unconscious alien in question, who still has his head embedded in the bar.

"Well, now I feel bad."

"Don't." The aged woman says with a snort as she puts her feet up on the table.

"She's a bitch, and the two of them never got along. Pretty sure she made that coat after taking it off someone's corpse as well."

"Ah, thanks. That makes me feel better about myself."

"Still, wasn't really a need to put Jando's head through the bar, now was there? Seems a bit harsh, is all I'm sayin'." The aged woman says with a grin, causing my shoulders to slump.

"See? Even the criminals agree with me." Bill says with a faintly triumphant expression, causing me to wave him away with an annoyed glare (only succeeding in making him look even _more_ triumphant).

With the tension broken, I hope to put this all behind me and save whatever little shreds of anonymity remain, but Jando's little friends seem determined to just ruin my whole day.

"You fucker! You think you're gonna get away with this? We've seen your face, you asshole! We'll find you! We'll track you down! We're gonna kill _you_ and _everybody_ you know! Wait 'till our Captain hears about this, he'll-"

"Oh? I'll do... _what_ , exactly? Careful what your next words are gonna be, son. I don't like being told what I should or should not do." A voice speaks up from the shadowed VIP-sections off to the side, immediately quelling the murmuring of the cantina, causing a deathly quiet to fall over the room.

Jando's friends look even more scared of the new speaker than they are of me or Bill, and I don't really blame them. Most people would have that reaction when _that_ particular voice called out to you.

Me?

I'm just fanboying as I turn towards the VIP-area, the Ravagar Captain emerging from the smoke and shadows, his stance loose and unconcerned as he slowly approaches me with a lopsided smile, his swagger signifying to all that this was a man you did _not_ fuck with.

"Normally, a man treats one of my boys the same way you did with Jando here, and I'd throw their body into the nearest sun. _But_ , I happen to dislike Jando. And I happen to like you. Never seen a guy move like you did. With that kind of skill, strength and speed... you'd make a fine Ravager. Come. Pay Jando and his friends what you owe them for the drinks and the coat, and ol' Caskarr here for his bar. Then come speak with me. I'm interested in what kind of stories a guy who regularly engages in mass-mayhem has to tell!"

And with that, Sly Stallone turns on his heel, leaving me awe-struck as I look at the retreating back of Stakar Ogord.

* * *

After paying the disgruntled barkeep and after Bill releases Jando's friends (and paying them too, adding a few dozen units for "emotional damages") the Korbinite and I join Stakar at his table where he's seated with a few of his lieutenants. While Sly was a huge part of my childhood when I grew up in my previous life (alongside that other major War God in the Modern Pantheon by the name of Schwarzenegger) I managed to keep myself from outwardly fanboying due to superior impulse control, as well as the fact that I've met several celebrities in this new life (though they aren't exactly celebrities here, apart from Stark).

After convincing Stakar that, _no_ , I wasn't a Jovian like Charlie-27 (a man a head taller than I was, which was normal for his species) but rather a mutated humanoid from Earth, Bill and I started trading stories with the legendary captain and his crew.

The mood got increasingly better as the day wore on and the alcohol consumption increased accordingly (though it didn't do much for me or Bill), while I told them about some of my exploits, like pitting two ancient hidden shadow organizations against each other by pretending to be part of both, or how one of my friends brought back a species from extinction and then gave it increased intelligence and the ability to breathe fire.

Bill at first told about his earliest experiences, before he became the Beta-Ray, and while his stories of his service in the Korbinite Armed Forces seemed to do well with Stakar and a few of his other, older looking officers, the younger and rowdier Ravagers were more interested in his time as a gladiator on Sakaar.

Bill was understandably reluctant to talk about that darkest period of his life, but when he glanced at me, I gave him a subtle nod, imploring him with my eyes. It always pays to know a guy with the power and connections that Stakar does. I wouldn't push Bill to tell about the time he spent in captivity, but if it helped our standing with these elite-Ravagers, then I sincerely hoped that he would do so.

The Korbinite Champion gave a deep sigh, before he slowly began talking about a few of his earlier battles, when he still had hope and his opponents had honour. His slow cadence, grave tone and deep voice easily pulled in his audience, making them completely entranced as he told them of glorious gladiator matches, even if Bill himself was unaware of it, reliving his memories as he told them.

While Bill was keeping the attention of Stakar's crew on himself, Sly leaned over to where I was sitting next to him, pinning me with a heavy stare.

"Now then, Terran. What brings a guy like you all the way out here? You're far from home, but you're hardly a stowaway like those few others of your kind who made it beyond their own little system. No, I look at you and I see a man with a _plan_ : you _want_ to be here. Why?"

Looking at Stallone from the corner of my glowing eyes, I give him a small grin.

"Well spotted. I'm here because I'm looking for someone. Well, a _few_ someones."

"Someone I need to be concerned with?" Stakar asks with a small frown, his mind leaping to his own crew, apparently not enthused by the idea that I'm here for him or one of his own.

I shrug my shoulders as I keep a nonchalant expression.

"Well, it's just the three people really. Two of them are freelancers: no crew or allegiance. I want them on my payroll. And considering just what I'm willing and able to pay, those two would be all too willing to be on said roll."

Stakar hums in thought as his eyes glide across the bar before they settle back on me. For a moment, he thinks things over, unaware that I can look in on his thought process, though there's a distortion of light surrounding his innermost thoughts that I cannot pierce without using enough force to leave everyone in this bar comatose and alerting all of Xandar.

It's likely a result of his physiology rather than any mental training or ability. In the movies it's never made clear just what Stakar is, other than that he's a respected Ravager Captain, but in the comics he had powerful light-based abilities. Judging by the way the glow from his shoulder... _thingies_ pulse and shift in concert with his thoughts, and I'm inclined that he has something similar in the MCU.

After thinking things through, Sly turns back towards me with a calculating gaze.

"What's their names? Maybe I can reach out to them, convince them to take the job. Trust me, mercs don't like being kept on retainer indefinitely. They want a job, after which they get their pay and they can get the hell outta dodge. They'll do bodyguard ops, sure, but you don't strike me as the type of guy who needs it. So, let me contact them. If it comes through me, they're likelier to take the job with less of a fuss. Keeps the costs down as well, which I take is a good thing, considering your... _aversion_ to people overpricing you." Stakar says with a sly grin, his eyes flitting over to the large hole in the bar.

Coughing in my fist, as I give a shrug and a half-nod.

"Thank you, Captain Ogord. It would mean a lot to me if you were willing to do that."

Stallone waves away my thanks as he leans back into his chair and starts downing his glowing orange drink, smacking his lips with a satisfied look on his face before his gaze refocuses on me.

"What's their names?"

"They are called Rocket and Groot."

"Hmmm... I vaguely recall some freelancer by the name of Rocket. Mostly cause it comes up a lot in reports regarding large scale destruction. You must like living dangerously if you wanna hire a guy like that. Ain't my call though, and it sure as hell ain't my problem. You wanna hire a nutcase, then that's your business."

And with those words, he downs the rest of his drink, before slamming the empty glass on the table and signalling a passing waitress for a refill.

"And the third one?"

"A member of my species, actually. I hope to find him and bring him home. I think it would be good for him: he is being missed."

Stallone grins as he raises his refilled glass to his lips.

"Another Terran, huh? He look like you, or like normal folk? Can't really help you either way, don't know many Terrans... unless..." slowly, Stallone comes to a halt, looking deep into his glass.

I can tell that he's getting suspicious by the way that his thoughts become angrier and more guarded (literally. The glow now encompasses most of his thoughts), though his face remains completely even.

"Who the hell are you? And why the _fuck_ are you here?"

Realizing from his thoughts and tone that I should be _very_ careful, I reply in a calming tone of voice.

"As I said: I am Michael McCole. I am from Terra. I have come to Xandar because I wish to learn more of the Galaxy and because I wish to find three people. The two mercenaries I have mentioned and the Terran by the name of Peter Quill. He was taken from his family 24 years ago by a Ravager by the name of Jondu Udonta. _Your_ former crewmate and friend."

For a moment, Stallone simply remains quiet, though his thoughts get increasingly darker the longer he stays silent. Thankfully, the rest of his crew is still completely engrossed in yet another of Bill's stories, this one apparently detailing one of his matches in which he fought four different opponents simultaneously while he was unarmed.

The Grandmaster had apparently wanted to make things "you know, uhh, more _interesting_. More of that... uhh... that, the _really_ good stuff, understand?".

"You sure know a lot 'bout this kid." Stakar says slowly, looking up at me with a closed-off expression.

"Like I said: he is missed back on Terra."

"And your intentions with this Quill boy?"

"Just to take him home, sir. I know who Jondu kidnapped those children for, Captain Ogord. He is a _very_ dangerous being: if he were to step foot on this planet, every single living organism would perish and there's nothing anybody would be capable of doing about it. Jondu broke the Code by selling that monster children, sending them towards their deaths, and you were right to excommunicate him for that. But he kept Peter. Tried to teach him the ways of the Galaxy, brought him up on her darker side, so he knew what the world was really like. He did what he could to keep the little human boy he kidnapped off the radar of his employer, to keep yet another child's death from his consciousness. But he _can't_ protect him from _this_ man, Captain Ogord. He is searching, tirelessly, for what he believes is his right, and should he claim it... _all_ life in the galaxy will be extinguished. Yondu cannot keep that from happening, _cannot_ keep Peter Quill, keep _us_ , safe. You asked me why I am here? I am here to save the universe. You can aid me, or stand in my way, but I _will_ save everyone regardless, Captain Ogord." I say, pressing my mind against his as much as I am able to while still keeping it hidden from the other sentients present.

Stakar rolls over my statement in his head, his eyes never leaving mine. I can tell that he's starting to believe me (or at least, partially), but he's not entirely sold yet.

"Peter Quill. He's just a Terran that Jondu picked up. One of hundreds. What makes _this_ one special? If all the others died, and we're all still here, then what's it about one random Terran that would allow Jondu's... _employer_ to wipe out the Galaxy?"

I dislike revealing this much, but contacting Peter through Stakar's contacts will not only make everything go a lot smoother (hopefully), but it would also mean that Stakar (somewhat) trusts me, which could end up being _very_ useful down the line.

"Tell me something, Captain. What do you know... about Celestials?"

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** The soundtrack album "Awesome Mix, Vol. 1" reached number one on the US Billboard 200 chart, the first film soundtrack ever to reach number one without a single original song. It was also nominated at the 2015 GRAMMY Awards for Best Soundtrack.

 **AN:** Originally, I indented for this chapter to include Bill and Michael to meet up with Sterns, to recruit Rocket, Groot and Peter, get the Power Stone, and arrive back on Earth where there's a massive surprise waiting for them (and you guys). However, first Jando showed up outta nowhere, and then suddenly, _somehow_ , Sylvester freakin' Stallone managed to show up as well! I swear to god, my actual chapters never have the common decency to follow the script that I've written. Anywhoo, I could increase this chapter, but we're past 6K, it's late and I'm exhausted, so I'm cutting it here. Hope you enjoyed!

Also! I already mentioned this in the latest update over on The New God of Earth, but I made some slight changes in my Patronage system!

 **1$ Tier – Awesomenauts:** Get a shout-out in all my stories!

 **2$ Tier – Galactic Admirals:** Vote on the next update, and even on story titles!

 **5$ Tier – Universal Monarch:** Ask for commission work once a month!

 **20$ Tier – Dimensional Overlords:** Get ALL the goodies! Be involved in my writing from start to finish! (Honestly, if you're part of this Tier I'm just about willing to give you my firstborn)

Since I'm still new to all that, please let me know your thoughts. Should I change the benefits, or maybe change the Tiers? I don't know, so let me know what you guys think! Stay awesome.


	44. I've got the Power!

**_I've got the Power!_**

* * *

"Just… let me see if I got this straight."

"Sure"

"There's a guy out there, as large as an entire _planet_?"

"Yes."

"And he wants to _eat_ the universe?"

"Indeed."

"And if he ever gets his hands on Peter Quill, that snot-nosed little kid that Yondu picked up when he broke the Code, then this Ego _will_ eat the entire universe?"

"Correct."

"So you want me to get the word out that Peter should get his ass over to _you_ , so you can keep him, and the rest of the entire universe, safe from getting eaten?"

"That would be very much appreciated, yes."

For a moment, silence falls between me and Stallone, as he studies my face, the both of us ignoring the noise of the bar around us with practised ease.

Then he gives out a scoffing laugh as he shakes his head, before raising his glass to his lips and downing the purple liquid in a single gulp, slamming the empty glass on the table with a grimace and a grunt.

"See, here's the part where your master plan falls apart." he drawls, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.

"Oh, how so?" I ask neutrally as I lean back into my own chair, meeting his searching gaze with a relaxed one of my own.

"Seems to me there's a much easier solution to this Ego-problem we're all apparently dealing with: we kill the Terran."

I almost stiffen, before I manage to regain control of myself (whatever the hell is in these drinks, I'm definitely starting to feel their effects by now if my control is wavering already) all the while keeping my smooth composure.

"Seems rather harsh to me. There's no need to kill Peter. He'd be safe with me, I can guarantee it."

Stakar straightens a bit, stabbing his finger towards me, his expression stern.

" _We'd_ all be safer if that brat is dead, _I_ guarantee it. No Peter, no Celestial to power Ego when he wants to eat the universe."

The annoying part is, he's right. With Peter dead, Ego's plan is almost sure to fail. I'm not sure if there are currently any more Celestial-hybrids out there in the universe and if there are, how many are capable of supporting the Expansion.

Probably not many, and hopefully none at all.

Even so, killing Peter would set Ego's plan back by a few decades if none of the other kids are full-grown yet. By the time he has found a suitable replacement, I'm probably powerful enough to simply crack his core in half and kill him.

Still, Peter is more useful to me alive than dead. Sure, if I'm just after his DNA, then I could just kill him and get a blood sample after. But if I truly want to crack the secrets of the Celestials based off off Ego's Seed back in Othrys, then I need a live specimen to experiment with.

Even if said specimen is only _half_ -Celestial.

Convincing Stakar to contact Peter for me instead of just putting out a hit on the man would've gone a lot smoother if he hadn't had that annoying energy field surrounding his own mind. Then again, a weak-minded individual was highly unlikely to become the leader of a Galaxy-wide pirate organization.

Unlucky, but to be expected, I suppose.

Still, the Mind Stone is one of the Universe's six most powerful objects: natural resistance or no, Stakar _will_ submit to my will.

Drawing on the power of the Infinity Stone in my helmet, I push my fledgeling telepathic tendrils out towards Stakar's mind. I can't just bulldoze my way through his defences though. Not only might that leave him comatose (and thus, useless to me), but it might also affect the rest of the bar.

And that's not even taking into account any possible crew members with telepathic abilities of their own.

No, subtlety is key here.

I lean forwards as my mind snakes around Stallone's thoughts, the image of Kaa coiling himself around Mowgli briefly flashing through my mind before I push the errant thought away and fully focus on the task at hand.

Even as I increase the pressure on the Italian Stallion's mind, my voice comes out, soft and urgent, with me pouring every single bit of charisma that I have into it.

"Come now, Stakar. Are you truly _that_ cold? Do you truly not care anymore about your friends? Your _family_?"

Stallone's eyelids briefly droop, before he blinks his eyes a few times, quickly focusing back on me again (with some difficulty, but his mind blames the alcohol instead of me).

"Peter Quill ain't no family of mine, son."

"Perhaps. But Yondu Undonta _is_."

Stakar's stiffens, before looking at me in anger.

Good.

His emotions weaken his mental defences.

"That man sure as _hell_ ain't my family anymore! You mention that Oath-breaker to me again, and I'll make sure it's the _last_ thing you'll _ever_ do." the Ravager Captain growls out, but I press on with thoughts and words.

"Maybe you thought that, once. _Before_ I told you what I know. Yondu broke the most sacred code of the Ravagers, that much is true. But he is _not_ the monster that you have made him out to be in your mind for all these years. When you were clinging to your hate, _wallowing_ in your grief, Yondu _changed_. He took that little boy, destined for an immortal life as a fucking _battery_ and he raised him as his own. Every single day for nearly _thirty_ years, Yondu has tried to be the best father that he can be. Every single day, he has tried to wash off the sin he committed when he was only a boy himself. And every single time time he was rebuffed, everytime the Ravagers spat on his crew, his _family_ , he simply bore the pain, all the while hoping that _someday_ , you would understand. That someday, you'd just give him a _chance_!"

"A chance? A _chance_?! We _all_ gave him a chance when I took him from the Kree slave pits! _I_ gave him a chance when I made him captain when he was still just a kid! I didn't just give him a chance! I gave him _everything_! And he threw it all away! He broke our hearts!" Stakar roars with genuine anguish in his voice.

If it weren't for the noise-dampening field (a neat bit of Wakandan reverse-engineered tech that Radcliffe had come up with) that I had put in place when Stakar and I started talking business (which had gotten me a glance from Bill, but not much else), then the rest of the bar certainly would've been alerted by the raised voice of the Ravager Captain.

Thankfully, due to the dim lighting in our booth, and with Stakar sitting with his back to the main room, nobody noticed the pirate leader's volatile reaction. With his mental shields unstable, I draw on more power from the Mind Stone and press in even deeper into his thoughts, even as I keep talking.

"Ah yes. The slave pits. Have you really never made the connection, Stakar? His _own parents_ sold him to the Kree. Where other people grow up in homes, with family and jobs, Yondu grew up in a cage, with only death and blood for company. And then you raise him up from the sands, point him to the stars, and tell this broken youth to make his heroes proud. What did you think would happen, Stakar? To you, child slavery is an abomination, and many in the Galaxy would agree with you. But to Yondu? To him, it was simply his _childhood_. His entire view of how the Galaxy works was crystalized in that single moment that his own parents looked him right in his eyes, while stranger clamped him in irons and whipped his back. And you shattered it all over again when you threw him out of the only family that he has ever known. But with that little boy from Terra, he has slowly been picking up the pieces, trying to fit them together again. It is a long way from perfect, but it has been thirty years in the making, and to be honest: Peter could've done a _lot_ worse in the father department. Since his _actual_ father wants to use him as a _fucking battery_. And you want to _kill_ him?! Peter has never done _anything_ to you! And what about Yondu?! You say he broke your heart, what the hell do you think you'll do to him when you take his family away from him _again_! A man can only take so much, Stakar Ogord. Are you _really_ so cruel that you wish to push your own son over the edge as well?"

Am I laying it on thick?

Yes.

Is it working though?

 _Hell_ yes.

As Stakar looks away for a moment as he tries to stop sweating through his eyes (because a man like Stallone does not cry), I know I've won, and with a small smile I push a large tankard of booze his way, which he is quick to accept.

As he recollects himself, his mental defences restore themselves, and my mental tendrils slowly unleash their deathgrip over his thoughts, leaving lingering impressions in their wake as I slowly remove them, like fishing hooks from a catch.

Stakar is mine now, even if he himself does not know it.

"I'll get in contact with Yondu's faction. Not ready to forgive him… but perhaps… talking could work. I'll make sure he'll send Peter your way. He's still exiled, but _I_ lead the Ravagers. He'll listen, whether he wants to or not. As for Rocket and his pal Groot, I'll have someone send a message to them. If they show for the job, that's their business and your problem. The pay's good though, so don't worry. They'll show."

Rubbing his forehead with a hand as he lets out a deep sigh, Stakar quickly downs the rest of his drink before he flags down a passing waitress, causing me to quickly shut down the silencing field.

After placing his order, Stakar takes out the alien equivalent of an I-Pad, quickly sending a couple of messages to his people, before he throws the datapad on the table, looking towards me with a closed off expression.

"There, it's done. Now get the hell out of my bar. I've got a lot to think about."

* * *

Having swayed Stakar to my side using my superb negotiating skills (and by cheating with a primordial piece of force in my helmet), Bill and I quickly make our way to Xandar's library. Our steps are slightly uneven, but considering we have been drinking an entire crew of elite space pirates under the table for the past four hours or so, that's to be expected.

Actually, how the hell does Bill get drunk? I'm not sure he even has a stomach.

Let alone a liver.

Considering it'd be rude to ask (I think), I drop the line of thought concerning my allies internal digestive system, and instead look up at the library.

And up.

And _up_.

Holy shit, this thing is _huge_.

We're smack dab in the centre of Xandar's main city, a few of the surrounding buildings looking familiar from when I saw them during Ronan's invasion in the first GotG movie. But then I was looking at them from the comfort of my couch, viewing them through a screen, in a scene that took place a few kilometers above ground.

Standing in front of them… it felt as if I was surrounded by mountains made of polished steel and shining glass.

I realized that, even should Stark Industries and Titan Solutions team up to rebuild Manhattan, it would still take about a century or two before we could equal the masterpieces of what Galactic architecture had to offer.

Finding Sterns in the library was a bit of a challenge due to the sheer size of the building (it's size and style reminded me starkly of Earth's largest building, the New Century Global Center in China… only enlarged by a factor of twenty or so). Locating my friend was further complicated by said friend not answering my calls for the first three times, which was apparently because he had been far too absorbed in his reading to hear his communicator go off, as he hurriedly told me when he finally did pick up.

Walking to one of the top floors of the building, I spot Sterns in his concealing cloak sitting at a translucent desk, surrounded by holographic screen and cases of what seem to be futuristic enormous floppies.

"Oh hey guys, you're back early! Couldn't find a terminal or something?"

For a moment, I simply stare at Sterns' doofy grin, before slowly speaking up.

"Sterns… we've been gone for nearly _five hours…_ "

The egghead merely laughs, bringing up a small screen displaying a digital clock as he does, before his chuckles slowly die off.

"Michael, don't be silly, it's just been… five… hours… damn."

"Time flies when you're having fun, I suppose. You got what we need?" I wave his worries away as I lean against the desk he has been working at, getting an enthusiastic nod from the scientist.

"Coordinates to just about every single civilization known to the Galactic community, as well as several uninhabited systems of interest. Galactic standards of communication, transportation and agricultural technology, most of it on the same, or higher, level that Othrys is capable of producing. Several scientific theories that would probably win me a Nobel Prize in half a dozen categories back on Earth. Yeah, I'd say I got what we need." Sterns says with a grin, getting a smile from me.

"Morag?" I ask.

"Got it's coordinates, the history of its people, as well as the material make-up of every single planet within that stellar system."

Before I can answer, Bill cuts in, his voice deadly serious.

"And my people? Have you found anything?"

Sterns hesitates for a moment, before giving a slow nod.

"Not much, but yes. Most of it you probably already know: the history of your people, as well as the destruction of Korbin at the hands of Surtur. The Nova Empire classified your species' situation as a crisis of intergalactic importance and interspecies concern, but other than urging their members and allies to give you aid, they couldn't do much else. The Kree War picked up again around that time, and they're still in the thick of it right now, though there are rumours of peace talks. Anyway, there are various reports of humanitarian aid being sent to your fleet, but no species was willing to give you a permanent residence out of fear of Muspelheim retaliating now that Nova protection couldn't be guaranteed. There's not much after that, except for a report of a spatial anomaly around two years ago, which is probably what seperated you from your fleet and sent you to Sakaar."

Immediately, my mind catches on the timescale, a growing suspicion quickly forming as I turn over the timeline of the MCU in my head.

"Sterns. When would this have happened in terms of the Earth Calendar?"

"Uhm, hang on, let me do the math for a sec… around the end of May, or very early June, 2011. Why do you ask?" Sterns quickly replies, looking at me with a questioning expression, one which is mirrored by Bill.

"Because, on June 2nd, 2011… Thor Odinson shattered the Bifrost, and with it the Asgardian mode of interstellar transportation, while it was still in contact with Jotunheim. If he hadn't done so, the entire planet would've bursted apart… all that energy probably had to go _somewhere_ …" I trail off, as I look towards Bill, who has gone completely still.

For a moment, neither Sterns or I speak up, allowing Bill to quietly deal with this new information.

"I thought they were my allies." Bill says, his tone completely flat, even as his mind steadily turns into an inferno of rage.

" _Everybody_ knows of the tale how Odin led the attack on Muspelheim, crippling the demon Surtur at great cost to his people. It has been told both to caution hubris, as well as to celebrate the glory of battle, and the blow dealt to a great evil. When Surtur's armies descended upon Korbin... when my homeworld was set aflame… _Odin_ , of all people, would've understood our need… our desperation… our _fury_. It is why I tried to reach Asgard with the fleet. We were so close… _too_ close, apparently. I thought of them as allies…" Bill trails off, his raging hatred tempered by crushing disappointment.

I step up beside him, laying my hand on his shoulder as I look deep into his eyes, pouring every single bit of my conviction into my voice.

"Listen to me, Bill. You may have lost the Asgardians as allies, but do _not_ despair. _We_ are your allies. _We_ won't seperate you from your people and throw you into hell, no! _We_ will find your people, I _will_ bring you peace! I _swear_!"

As I feel my Chi flare up through my entire body, as reality shifts itself around me, I realize that, as a magically powerful entity, I really should take more care to watch what I say.

Because I'm pretty sure I just accidentally made an Oath.

I have no idea what an Oath exactly entails, or what the consequences are for breaking it, but just by slightly flexing my will against the magical matrix that I can now feel tethered to my soul tells me that I don't want to find out.

Shit.

Not that I didn't mean what I said to Bill, but I really didn't want an Oath binding me to my promise. I mostly said it to keep him firmly on my side by driving a wedge between him and Asgard, I didn't intend to perform a Harry Potter crossover on accident.

I need to consult Pangborn and maybe the Ancient One (depending on her mood) when I get back to Earth.

"Thanks Michael. You can let go now."

Realizing belatedly that I have been keeping a hold of the Korbinite Champion all the while that I had been musing, I let out a small cough as I return my arms to my side.

Bill doesn't seem to care though, a thoughtful expression coming to his artificial face.

"It certainly does not feel as if I've merely spent two years on Sakaar though. I know that the Grandmaster said time flows differently, but I had not expected there'd be such a difference. I've only been gone for two years?"

Slowly, the hatred and despair from before are replaced by something new and tentative.

"There is still hope for my people!"

Sterns expression, however, is enough to crush his newly formed elation.

"Isn't there?" he desperately asks, and all that Sterns can do is shake his head.

My friend shifts in his seat, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times, before he sighs and simply hands Bill a screen. I read along by looking over the Champions shoulder, and-

Oh.

Oh shit.

"Bill, I'm-" Sterns starts, but before he can continue Bill crushes the screen in between trembling hands, letting it fall to the floor as he turns on his heel and stalks out of the library without a single word, his feet slightly denting the floor underneath him with the force of his steps.

I can't blame him though, as I look at the myriad of screens that Sterns still has opened on his desk, my eyes easily picking out a similar article to the one that the scientist has just shown Bill.

ALERT: KORBINITE FLEET LAST SEEN IN THE VICINITY OF SANCTUARY. NO FURTHER CONTACT RECEIVED. THANOS ACTIVITY SUSPECTED. CAUTION! AREA OFF-LIMITS! AVOID THE AREA AT ALL COSTS! ALL CONTACT WITH THE KORBINITES HAS CEASED, SPECIES SUSPECTED TO BE EXTINCT.

"I'm sorry, Bill." Sterns sadly finishes, and I can't quite keep myself from sharing the sentiment.

* * *

The rest of the week that we spent on Xandar was mostly done in silence. Bill was understandably taciturn, and Sterns and I decided to give the cyborg the space he needed. Maybe I could've used the Mind Stone to influence him for the better, but I was loathe to mess with the emotionally distressed Champion.

I figured that as long as his body kept functioning at peak efficiency, I'd leave his mind be.

Finally, after three days spent sightseeing, reading up on various alien civilisations and trying to make sense of the Galactic levels of technology, I was finally contacted by Stakar through a private message.

The fact that the captain himself contacted me instead of having one of his lieutenants do it was a very good sign: it showed that my mental hooks were still present in his innermost thoughts.

As for the message itself, it was… succinct. In that it was only two sentences.

"They're here. Star's Hall, Room 35-CC, in two hours."

Star's Hall was comparable to a community centre, crossed with a truly humongous mall. Next to various food-courts, theaters and retail shops, there were various conference rooms that could be rented for a certain amount of time. Wanting to have the initiative during my meeting with half of the Guardians of the Galaxy, I made sure that my company and I were there an hour beforehand.

Which was somewhat overzealous, I discovered almost two hours later, when neither a raccoon, nor a tree, nor a hybrid Celestial had walked into the room yet (when exactly did my life turn from a mad scramble for survival into the set-up for a bad punchline?).

I was starting to think that Stakar had set me up, when I heard a commotion just outside the door.

Shooting Sterns and Bill a confused look (and only getting shrugs in return), I rose from my seat at the head of the long table and approached the door with a few great strides, throwing it open with a quick pull.

"Get off off me, you rat!"

"Calling me a rat, are you?! Thief!"

"Why you little &*^%!"

"Oh yeah?! Well your mother is #$$^&!"

"You take that BACK!"

"NEVER!"

 **"SHUT IT!"**

At my roar, which rattled the walls and made the floor shake, Peter Quill and Rocket Racoon look up at me with wide eyes. Peter is lying on his back on the ground, with Rocket standing on his chest, holding Peter's shirt in one balled fist, while the other is raised to punch the Terran in the face. Peter has grabbed Rocket by one of his ears and his tail, and both are looking rather scruffy.

"What. The. Hell." I seethe through clenched teeth, making both Guardians blanch (though it's kinda hard to tell with Rocket due to his fur), before they let go of each other, quickly scrambling to their feet.

"He started it!" "He started it!" they cry out simultaneously.

"I don't care who started it, I'll _finish_ it!"

For a moment, human and racoon look up at me with petulant expressions.

"Now shut the hell up and take a seat at the table."

"Oh yeah? If you're gonna be all rude, then why should I listen to you, huh?" Rocket asks, Peter nodding along.

"Money."

"... Fair enough."

As I step back into the room, allowing Rocket and Peter to pass me, a shadow falls over me. Turning to look, I'm faced with the first being a head taller than I am ever since my first transformation back in my storage shed all those years ago.

"I am Groot." a deep bass rumbled out of the amalgam of moss and wood that's towering over me with a friendly smile.

"Hello Groot. I'm Michael." I say with a smile of my own, extending my hand.

Groot moves to take it, before his eyes widen and he quickly pulls back his own hand. For a moment I'm confused, before I realize that Groot, being made of plants, probably doesn't appreciate shaking hands with an Extremis individual.

My confusion returns tenfold however, when Groot makes a protesting noise when I step away from him to give him some space. Turning back to him, I see him step in place, wringing his hands as he looks from me to my hand and back to me again.

Honestly, he looks like a kid that really wants to pet something that they find simultaneously awesome as well as scary.

That, or he needs to pee.

"I am Groot."

"I'm sorry, I don't-"

"He's asking if you can put the bad fire away, and bring the good warmth instead." Sterns speaks up, drawing confused looks from every single person in the room.

"What? I did a lot of reading and Xandar's library has a renowned section on linguistics." the scientist says with a small cough.

"Well, clearly you need to go read some more, 'cause that didn't make a lot of sense, did it?" Rocket laughs, before looking at his friend.

"C'mon buddy, you can tell me."

"I am Groot."

"... yeah no, all I got was nonsense too."

While Sterns and Rocket start arguing (with faint interjections from Groot, who seems to want everyone to play nice, while Bill just seems faintly amused by the whole thing) I instead mull over Groot's words as I look at my hand.

Wait…

"It's not nonsense." I speak up, halting the conversation between Rocket and Sterns (if you could even call it that).

"Groot, come here please? I'm going to bring the good warmth now, okay? Don't be scared."

"I am Groot." the tree says happily, stepping closer to me, his big eyes fixed on my hand.

I clench it, calling on the life-force coursing through my veins and summon my Meteor Fist, the golden glow of my flesh illuminating the conference room. Ever since I enhanced myself with Extremis, it's been hard to gauge temperatures, so I don't really feel a difference between the heat that I'm putting out right now compared to when I light my hand up solely with Extremis.

Groot seems totally fine with it though, stepping even closer to me. Slowly, he raises his own hands, and then gently clasps them around my fist, hiding the golden Chi glow from view, brief glimmers peeking out from between his gnarled fingers.

The moment that he makes contact with my skin, I can feel my Chi start seeping into him, like rainfall over a drought. As my very life-energy is being drawn into Groot, I start getting impressions, which grow increasingly stronger the longer the sentient tree keeps contact with me, causing me to quickly close my eyes.

The impressions are… like nothing that I've ever experienced, or could have ever imagined. A whole different sensation of the passage of time. The way the surroundings registrate with wholly unfamiliar senses. Even parts of the body that I've taken for granted are examined and compared to an alternative. It's only now that I realize just how much of the mammalian body is focused solely around the digestion of food. But this… living just off light and water alone…

"Is this… how _you_ see the world?" I ask in awe.

"I am Groot." the tree responds happily, causing me to open my eyes and-

"What."

I can only stare in numb shock at the sentient plant in front of me… which is absolutely covered in bright yellow sunflowers and vibrant green moss.

For a moment, silence falls over the conference room, the only sound the happy humming from Groot as he keeps a hold of my Meteor Fist with a dopey smile on his face, before it's broken by the incredulous voice of Rocket.

"Well. He never did _that_ before."

* * *

After making sure that Groot was in fact still healthy (he seemed to be _better_ than healthy, actually, with my chi apparently having had some kind of rejuvenating effect on his unique physiology), we got down to business.

While Rocket was somewhat cagey at the prospect of working for me, the combination of Groot's fondness for me and the huge amount of money I was offering just for sticking around eventually swayed him.

This was why I wanted to recruit these two specifically. Sure, there were tons of other mercenaries in the universe if I just wanted the extra muscle, but these two I knew _not_ to stab me in the back, while still contributing to the overall firepower of Othrys (though I would have to make sure Rocket doesn't steal batteries or something else of value unless I approve it).

It wasn't _much_ reward, considering I already employed people who could do much the same that these two could, but considering there was literally _no_ risk, I was more than happy with the deal.

Peter however…

"I'm not going back there."

The finality in his tone immediately kills the lighter mood that had begun to form when Rocket and Groot officially joined Titan Solutions. Looking from the Celestial-hybrid to the alien duo, I talk to Sterns, though my eyes remain fixed on Quill.

"Sam? Why don't you take our new friends here for a tour of Star's Hall. With their advance payments in their accounts, there should be a nice souvenir somewhere around here."

Recognizing the order for what it was, the three stand up and leave the room (though Groot seems reluctant to be separated from me). From the corner of my eye, I can see Bill catch my gaze with a questioning look on his face. I give him a tiny nod, getting an equally subtle one in return, and without a word, the cyborg stands up and leaves the room. Of course, what I do know and Peter doesn't, is that Bill hasn't left the premises entirely, but is simply standing guard right outside.

Considering what I might have to reveal to Peter, I prefer to speak to him in private without any chance of being disturbed.

"Why not? The pay is good-"

"I don't give a shit about the pay!"

"You're a Ravager. All you care about is the pay." I point out dryly, causing Peter to slightly sputter, before he fixes me with an angry glare.

"There's not enough Units in the Galaxy to make me go back."

Even as I look him in the eye, I flex my telepathy, drawing power from the Mind Stone as I send tendrils of pure thought towards Peter's mind-

 _'Wait, what?'_

Once again, I gather my will and send it towards Peter-

 _'What the hell?'_

Both times, the energy of the Mind Stone seeped into Peter's mind like a wet sponge, leaving my earlier anacondas of thought and willpower to shrivel up to resemble noodles instead. My telepathy was still very new and still developing. It was only by piggybacking off the power of the Mind Stone that I had been able to overwhelm another's mind.

But Peter's mind… it drank the Cosmic energy like an exhausted camel at a watering hole.

Damn, if a _half_ -Celestial being was already capable of absorbing such levels of powers that easily… no wonder they were one of the few races that could wield the Infinity Stones.

The power of the Celestial-gene at work… the very thing that hundreds before Peter had lacked, causing them to burn up into skeletons, but which had granted Peter _immortality_.

This…. this was the next stage in my evolution.

Withdrawing my telepathy (my own skills weren't trained enough yet to subsume another sentient's will just yet anyways), I instead lean forwards in my seat, expertly hiding my hunger from view.

"I understand your aversion, Peter. I can imagine that the memories of our home-planet aren't the happiest ones. I understand that. But don't tell me that there isn't _some_ part of you that cannot help but wonder. What happened to the world after you left? Intellectually, you know it hasn't been standing still, but what could it possibly be now? Perhaps you've had some vague ideas, no doubt influenced by the alien worlds around you, but I'm pretty sure Sterns and I have thrown those phantasms out the window. Do you not care at all what happened to your home, Peter?"

The half-Celestial hasn't stormed out of the room yet, so there's that at least, but I can tell that I haven't convinced him yet.

Time to use an ace.

"Don't you want to visit your mother's grave at least once?"

 _That_ gets a reaction. Too bad it wasn't the one that I was looking for.

"You ever mention my mother again, and I'll blow your head off." Peter hisses through clenched teeth, before he stands up so rapidly his seat clatters to the floor.

As he starts walking to the door, I reveal my other ace.

"Since we're on the topic of your mother: don't you want to know who killed her?"

Huh.

Would you look at that.

He kept his word: he _did_ try to shoot my head off.

The moment the sound of his gun firing rings throughout the room, Bill has bursted through the door, leaving it a crumpled wreck as he tackles Peter to the ground, pinning his arm holding the gun to the ground with one hand, and raises a fist to reduce the human's head to a pulp.

"Bill, _don't_! It's fine, he barely scratched me." I quickly speak up, my deep voice rumbling through the room, causing Bill to shoot me a questioning look and Peter to shoot me a baffled one.

Standing tall from my seat, waving away the slight smoke coming off my skin which is rapidly healing some slight singes, I stalk towards the pinned Peter, who has given up struggling against the iron hold of Beta-Ray Bill, and is instead glaring at me with a mixture of fear and anger.

"Don't you _dare_ use my mom to get at me. I already know how she died, asshole, so you can't use her-"

"You don't."

"... What?" Peter asks confused, craning his neck as I keep walking to the large windows looking out over the plaza of Star's Hall ( _For the Damaged Coda_ involuntarily starts playing in my mind).

"You _think_ you know how your mother died. And perhaps that is even true. After all I'm not disputing _how_ she died: we both know it was due to a brain tumor. No, I'm disputing _why_ she died."

"Disputing _why_ my mom died?" Peter says with a shaky laugh, completely ignoring Bill now, his watery eyes solely fixed on me.

"She died, because the universe _sucks_. Because it doesn't _care_! Because it's not _fair_ , when the greatest woman ever-!"

"Is murdered. You're right. That isn't fair. It isn't fair at all."

"What…?" Peter asks in a tiny voice, and as I glance away from the windows, looking over my shoulder, I don't see a full-grown space outlaw.

I see a little boy, crying as his mother utters her last words.

"Your mother was _murdered_ , Peter. She always told you that your father was an angel. Composed of pure light, she'd tell you. She was more right than she ever even knew."

"What the hell are you saying?"

"Your father is an alien, Peter. A member of an ancient, and _powerful_ race. Your father might just be the last one left. And when he came to Earth, he came to lay the foundation for a plan that would see it destroyed. Instead, he fell in love. He didn't plan for it, but it happened nonetheless. And when he had a choice between his Plan, or your mother…"

I turn away from the small child in order to gaze out the window again, my voice low and sombre.

"... he chose poorly."

For a moment, there's no sound other than Bill getting to his feet and helping Peter to his.

"What did he _do_?" Peter seethes, making the corner of my mouth quirk upwards.

"He planted a tumor, right inside her brain. For if she lived, then his love for her would keep him from ever fulfilling his Plan. He'd rather mourn the woman he loved and destroy the Universe, than dare to let himself love. To live, to grow old, and to die."

"What's his name?" Peter asks, and instead of the earlier seething tone, his voice is now completely flat, void of any emotion whatsoever.

Instead of a burning anger, there just remains a freezing hatred.

Turning to face him fully, I take two great strides, until I'm towering over him.

"Ego." I simply say, I don't need my telepathic powers to know that the name of his father will forever be burned into Peter's mind.

"Where can I find him?"

"I don't know." I admit, but before Peter can lash out, I continue, my voice still low and calm, raising a palm in a placating gesture.

" _But_ , stick with me… and we'll find out."

And with that, I lower my hand, offering it to the half-Celestial. Peter hesitates for only the barest of moments, before his small hand grabs my enormous one.

As we shake on it, I use a considerable amount of willpower to keep the serious expression fixed on my face, instead of the menacing grin that's threatening to break through instead.

With Peter acquired, I'm one step closer to Godhood.

* * *

With all the people that I wanted to collect acquired (I _really_ want to visit Nidavellir, but I currently don't have the right leverage to commission what I need from them, and I already know that what I'll ask from them requires _a lot_ of leverage indeed) we waste no time piling into Oliver.

Despite the increased number of people, Oliver's cabin fits us all comfortably, the Space Stone in his engine, combined with Sterns fledgling mastery of the Quantum Realm meaning that there's plenty of elbow room for everyone (though Groot insists on poking me).

Once again we leave Xandar's planet and stellar system completely stealthed, which means that we have to wait yet another nine hours before we can jump towards Morag.

During that time, we all got to talking and swapping stories, slowly getting to know each other better. Most of it was pretty generic, up until the point that Rocket got into a fight with Beta-Ray Bill (Rocket had steadily been picking fights with each of us, with the exception of Groot of course).

While it started out relatively innocently, with Rocket slinging some snarky insults and Bill barely reacting to them, things really heated up when Rocket insulted Bill's augmentations. Considering that Bill had willingly giving up his body and had his soul transferred to an experimental android platform in a last ditch effort to save his people (an effort that had apparently failed) Bill understandably took those comments rather poorly.

That led to an epic shouting match that lasted nearly an hour. While it started with the two hurling insults at each other, it eventually boiled down to the way the two of them dealt with the changes made to their bodies.

Bill had been a volunteer trying to save his people: he saw his new body as a great honor and a mark of his people's trust in him.

Rocket didn't even know what he had _been_ before he had been pulled apart and reassembled, and he had a gnawing, soul-crushing suspicion that the reason for that was that he simply hadn't been intelligent enough to even _have_ any such kind of self-awareness before.

He despised the scientists that made him, but realized that there wasn't anything for him to go back to, to cling to or to long for.

The argument got quite heated and emotional, and when it finally came to a close (with Bill shouting in Rocket's face that it were _his_ augmentations, so it was up to _him_ what he did with them and who he _chose_ to be) Rocket denied having ever had the conversation in the first place.

Nobody failed to notice that afterwards, the only ones that Rocket wasn't acting antagonizing towards were Groot _and_ Bill.

It simply left me thinking that I _really_ ought to get Bill and Nebula in a room together sometime.

After the nine hours were _finally_ over and we were a safe distance away from Xandar's scanners, Sterns exited the Boom Tube, immediately grabbing the "Go Fast"-lever (as it was now called since Peter put a Post-It with those words on it) and slamming it forwards.

Our world turned into an endless 1-dimensional tunnel, and a complicated unit of time later, we slammed back into real Space again, the stormy world of Morag far beneath us.

It was the work of mere minutes for Sterns to find the Temple Vault where the Power Stone was housed, and fifteen minutes later, Oliver touched down in front of the steps leading up to the main hall, handling the massive amounts of turbulence with ease.

We quickly filed out of the van, the rest of the group behind me as I lead the way, the opening sequence of GotG firmly in my mind.

Ascending the cracked and weathered steps, we entered the ruined hall of the Temple Vault, my crew mates looking around with expressions ranging from awe (Sterns) to boredom (Rocket). Crossing the hall is done in moments, since we don't waste time dancing and barely even bother with the Orloni (I actually crush a few by accident in my haste to get to the Power Stone). When we come to the chasm with the large monsters at the bottom, Peter and I quickly fly across, Bill jumps across, Sterns extends his robotic arms and walks across and Groot picks up Rocket, grows his legs to several times their normal length, after which he simply steps over the chasm as well (after which he immediately goes back to poking me again).

Within moments we've arrived at the heavy locked doors leading to the room with the Power Stone. Too eager to contain myself, I don't bother with the enormous double doors at the entrance, simply punching them straight off their hinges instead, sending the great slabs of stone and metal flying into the room.

It takes a few seconds before I hear my crewmates start walking again.

We slowly crowd around the pillar holding the Orb contained, the white glow of its containment field throwing our faces in stark contrast.

"So… now what?" Rocket asks laconically, though I easily pick up his thoughts (they involve explosions. Big ones).

"Stand back please."

Even before I've finished speaking, I see that the others have already stacked up near the entrance. At my confused look, Sterns gives a sheepish grin.

"Well, not to be hurtful or anything, but you _can_ be quite… _destructive_ , if you put your mind to it. So, if you suggest clearing some space, then we are all too happy to accomodate you."

"I'm not _that_ bad! I'm pretty sure Rocket is way worse!" I say indignantly.

"The Grandmaster's Palace." Bill replies dryly.

"... Touché."

"Wait, what happened with whose Palace?" I hear Peter ask, Sterns answering in a casual tone.

"Oh, Michael destroyed a city."

" _Part_ of a city!" I shout, before turning my back on the by-play, instead focusing on the prize in front of me.

Holding out my hand to the side, in a move mimicking Yoda I summon my _Harpe_ , enlarging it back to its full size right as it smacks into my hand. The end result is suspiciously similar to what Loki and Hela do whenever they summon blades out of nowhere.

I light up my hand with Extremis and Chi, causing the runes along the Berserker Staff to glow up in unison as well, the entire Vibranium-Chitauri alloy blade coming to live with a golden glow as well.

Harnessing the rage that comes with wielding the Berserker's Staff, I relish in the increase in strength as I draw back my scythe. Then, with one quick swipe, I cut through the stone pillar connected to the top part of the field. At the end of my swing, I perform a quick flourish with the scythe, spinning it a few times, before pulling it back into a return swing that cleaves through the bottom part of the pillar like a lightsaber trough butter.

This was how I actually brought down the Grandmaster's Palace. By feeding the Harpe my Chi, using my telekinetic link with it to spin it above my head until it was a disk of glowing energy, and then enlarging it with Pym Particles.

Took down the base of the Palace with an ease that would've made Rocket green with envy.

For a moment, nothing happens, the red glowing cuts in the stone giving off steam as I stare intently at the white energy field. Then I hear something spark inside the pillar and go an odd sort of 'clunk!'... and the whole damn thing explodes in my face.

The force of the blast pushes me back to my companions just outside the room, my boots scraping over the weathered stone floor as I keep up my shield, which I had summoned and enlarged in the nick of time.

Not that the blast would've really harmed me, given my physical capabilities and the Aurelion Armor, but it would be somewhat embarrassing to get knocked flat on my ass just as I was about to obtain one of the most powerful weapons in the universe.

As I straighten from my guarded stance, ignoring the steam coming off my scatheless shield, I glance at my crew, some of which are looking at me with wide eyes as the smoke slowly clears and the heat dies down.

"I meant to do that."

With those words, I stalk back into the room again, an enormous grin showing on my face when I spot the Orb lying amidst the rubble of its former prison. Shrinking and holstering my _Harpe_ , but keeping my _Aegis_ out I quickly pick up the Orb, before twisting it with all my might.

It takes quite a lot of effort. but I don't want to use Chi just yet. It's somewhat difficult to accurately gauge the strength of the Kree, so I'm not sure how I stack up compared to them, especially their elite.

However, Ronan was able to break this with his bare hands, so I should be able to.

And with a splintering noise, the Orb is crushed within my hands, filling me with satisfaction, not only at the prize hidden inside, but also at the knowledge that I easily stand on equal footing to the best the Kree have to offer.

Briefly, apprehension fills me as I look from the purple glowing Power Stone to Peter. I don't particularly feel much for parts of my body crumbling away into nothingness underneath the might of the Power Stone.

Still, between Peter, Bill and Groot, they _should_ have enough power to share the strain long enough for me to let go of the Stone again.

Realizing that I'm stalling, I take a deep breath, engulf my hand in Chi as a sort of buffer, and grab the Power Stone.

The sheer amount of pressure and pain that slam into every single fiber of my being is simply impossible to put into words. You need to actually be dying, be ripped apart on a cellular level, to understand what the consequences are of holding an object of literal infinite power.

The moment that my hand closes around the Power Stone, I sink to my knees as I clench my teeth so hard that a few of them crack. I try my best not to cry out as I seek deep within my own body, trying to bear the strain of all the power rampaging through my body.

Guiding Chi to every single cell in my body helps alleviate the pressure, and I slowly start fighting back against the tsunami of power, using my skills at mediation, Chi techniques and the feedback provided by the Hearth-Shaped Herb to regain control of my body cell by cell.

Slowly, I straighten, my fist clenched tight around the Stone as my veins and eyes glow a bright purple. I keep fighting the power that threatens to overwhelm me, beating it down into submission again and again, continuously wrestling it down for control.

However, I quickly reach a stalemate. My body is no longer breaking apart, and is actually healing the damage the Power Stone has inflicted. But this fight inside my body is taking all of my concentration, I can barely even move, let alone answer the worried shouts of the rest of the crew.

Tuning them out, I realize that for all my power, I'm still not on the level of Thanos where I can handle bare-skin contact with the Infinity Stones with ease.

Thankfully, I don't need to.

With a roar (amplified by the Power Stone coursing through my body, it nearly brings down the entire roof on our head) I raise my shield and slam the Stone in the centre of it, right in the recess that I had Elliot Randolph and Melvin Potter make.

The entire shield pulses with the purple energy of the Power Stone, before it slowly settles.

Just like with the Mind Stone in my helmet, I can still feel the energy of the Power Stone pressing in on me, but it's no longer as all-consuming before, or with the same magnitude.

This is manageable.

Letting out a deep sigh as my posture slumps, I slowly begin to chuckle, my hoarse voice steadily increasing in volume until I'm full on cackling. Slowly, I come down from my power-induced high (literally, in this case), before turning towards the others with an enormous grin on my face, the purple gem in my shield pulsing brightly.

"Three down. Three to go."

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Vin Diesel receives special and secretive scripts that reveal what Groot actually says, with all the "I am Groot"s translated into English. The only persons who know what Groot says everytime he speaks are Gunn and Diesel (and some of the writers, presumably). Diesel also does the "I am Groot" lines in most of the dub versions of the Guardian movies.

 **AN:** Remember when I said that this would only be out somewhere later this week? Yeah, about that, I combined Red Bull with a Low-Fi Playlist on Spotify and then I couldn't stop writing. Now it's 3AM, my fingers are sore, and I have classes today… Cheers!

 _ **Huge** amount of thanks to all of my Patrons! Shaman95, Ijustlovereadin, Daniel Dorfmann, Sam, Carn Krauss, ReaperScythe, Thordur Hrafn, Kahn, Ryan Lahey, Vu, Roman Krupkin, thanks so much for your support! Stay Awesome!_


	45. To Hell and Back

_**To Hell and back**_

* * *

"Oh come on, it wasn't _that_ bad!"

"Nah, I'm telling ya, it totally was."

"Rocket's right, that _really_ was an evil laugh."

"I did _not_ let out an evil laugh!"

"Gotta disagree with ya there pal. Totally evil, all the way. Only thing ya needed was black leather and you'd be all set, oh Dark One."

"It wasn't _evil_!"

"You cackled loud enough to make the floor shake. Sounds pretty evil to me dude. You're worse than Vader… you're the Emperor!"

"Ok, first off: you take that back Peter! And secondly, it wasn't an _evil_ laugh… it was more of an… _diabolical_ laugh… in the sense that… it was the fruition of an _ingenious_ master plan, _not_ of my… _evilness_."

As my defense peters out, our little party comes to a halt, the other members of my team looking at me with glances holding varying levels of skepticism (as in, Rocket is openly scoffing and even Peter is rolling his eyes).

"C'mon Groot, buddy, _you_ don't think that was an evil laugh, do you?"

"… I… … …am Groot." The sapient tree shuffled awkwardly, for once trying his best to _not_ look at me.

"… Bill?"

The cyborg's eyes stop tracking the broken hall of the temple to glance towards me, before he gives a careless shrug.

"It was a textbook example of an evil laugh."

With that said, he starts walking again, clapping me heartily on my shoulder.

"Do not worry, I have already accepted that you are a diabolic warlord quite some time ago. This is nothing new to any of us, save maybe yourself."

And with that he's off, the rest of the group in tow, but I can see the grins they're trying to suppress, and the way that Rocket's tiny shoulders are shaking with laughter so I play along, throwing my arms up in despair, calling out in my most dramatic tone of voice.

"Oh, woe is me! I have been found out! Very well then, allow me to show you the face of _true_ evil! From now on, we must all wear black leather, wear spikes on our shoulders and have nicknames that incorporate the word blood, teeth or blade, preferably all three. Exceptions can be made for Casual Fridays. Muhaha." I finished dryly.

And with that, all tension is broken with Rocket's laughter echoing through the ruins of the ancient Morag temple. We keep bantering back and forth as we make our way towards Oliver, all six of us easily piling into his cabin.

Having spent hours cooped up together when we left Xandar, as well as the money that I was paying them combined with their own loose morals, meant that the new additions to my team weren't _too_ spooked of my little power trip (heh) after I got the Stone, and Bill and Sterns were with me long enough to overlook it anyways.

Oliver ascended into Morag's atmosphere with ease, the perpetual storms that plagued the planet ineffectively battering his windshield. While there was nobody on (or in the vicinity of) the planet, I still ordered Sterns to take us out via Boom Tube, rather than just opening a Tesseract portal to Earth. Even if nobody was here, that didn't mean nobody was watching. If Thanos had any kind of surveillance on the planet, then he would notice the jumps that Oliver had made.

Two incredibly powerful teleport signatures, separated by a short time spent in the vicinity of the Power Stone? Should Thanos indeed be keeping an eye on Morag, then his mind would immediately jump towards the Power Stone being taken. If he comes here to check on it (though he'd probably send a disposable middle man instead, in order to keep his true motives hidden from the galaxy) and he finds it missing, he might react… _unpredictable_.

The thought of an unpredictable Thanos unnerves me, so if I have to endure the (relatively) slow method of travelling via Boom Tube for a little longer, then so be it.

Thankfully, I didn't think it necessary to put as much distance between us and the planet as we had done with Xandar, so after a few hours I had Sterns drop us back into Real Space, before giving him permission to once again rip a hole in all conventional (and _un_ convential) notions of Space in order to take us home.

Once again, we entered a plane of existence that reminded me of the Hyperspace Lanes of Star Wars, only more electrifyingly blue, before with a sudden jerk we were spat back out into reality again, flying high above Earth's upper atmosphere, the entire continent of North America no larger than my fingernail sitting underneath our position.

Something was terribly wrong.

A crawl went up my spine, to my scalp, and then back down all the way to my toes. Something akin to nausea made itself known with a vengeance, and I could feel all of my muscles tense as sheer adrenaline _slammed_ through my veins.

When I looked down at Earth, I could see why.

New York was burning.

"Sterns." I growl out, getting startled looks from the other occupants of Oliver's cabin.

My friend is way ahead of me, bringing up a viewing screen that runs across Oliver's dashboard. It takes a few moments, before Sterns' outgoing call is answered by the harried looking face of Phineas.

"Oh thank God, you're here! Get down _now_ , we need all the fire-power we can get!"

"Phineas! What's going on!" I bark out, the man's digitized eyes snapping towards mine in an instant.

"We're being invaded."

Ice coils in my gut. The next Invasion isn't supposed to happen until well over half a year from now, when the Convergence allows the Dark Elves to reach Earth. What did I change? Did my trip in space set someone off, causing them to attack Earth?

"Who? Who is it Phinaes?"

… Had Thanos moved early after all?

Phineas' answer somehow managed to be even _worse_.

"It's Hell. Hell and Dormammu are invading New York."

For a moment, there's only a stunned silence, before it's broken by Rocket.

"I get Hell's attacking, but who's Dormammu?"

Somehow, the fact that _my_ planet, _my_ town is being attack by _demons_ sets off a fury in me that takes me by surprise. With burning eyes and veins, I turn to the raccoon, my teeth grinding as I growl from deep in my chest.

"A soon to be _very_ dead entity."

Turning away from Rocket, I look at Sterns.

"Sam. Take us down. _Now_."

"Aye, aye!"

As Oliver angles his nose downwards, and rapidly starts accelerating, igniting the air around us, I look back towards Phineas.

"Fill me in."

And so he did, showing me extensive video footage clearly taken from his army of drones. The sight of the demons (ugly looking lizard things that seemed to have been mixed with fire and horns into grotesque shapes) nearly sends me flying into a rage, something on a very deep, magical level making me want to lash out and tear them limb from limb.

Seeing them descend upon the populace of New York with gleeful howls, I'm not exactly inclined to curb that desire.

"It began five days ago, when several holes opened up in Central Park, all spouting flames and they began releasing hordes of demons. We were taken by complete surprise, apparently there were some _really_ advanced energy dampeners in place, not even the Ancient One had felt anything off. Because we weren't prepared, and it was a sunny day… those first few hours were _bad_. The Avengers and Othrys were quick to form an initial perimeter though, trying to push the demons back, Cap and Harper leading the attack. They were quickly joined by the Masters of the Mystic arts, led by the Ancient One."

As he spoke, several videos were playing, showing the Avengers raining down missiles, arrows and lightning on the teeming horde, while the black clad shapes of the Hysminai cut a swath of death through the opposing forces, their silent movements starkly contrasting the howls and shrieks of the demons. Harper was backed up by about a dozen of my Othrys' personnel, all clad in armor and armed with weaponry reverse engineered from both the Chitauri and the Kree. I could even see Skye in the back, doing a fairly accurate impression of the kinetic bursts of the Black Panther suit whenever she hit the ground or a demon with her bare fists, her Inhuman powers turning out to be a devastating weapon. While the two teams threw themselves into the thick of the fighting, large portals suddenly opened all along the edges of Central Parks, wizards emerging by the dozens, the fluttering robe and bald head of the Ancient One in the front, Kaecellius and Mordo at her sides. I saw her give a nod to Kaecellius, who appeared to be more youthful, and more muscled. The wizard nodded in return, before shedding his upper robes, and dropping to all fours. His muscles bulged and shifted, the hair of his scalp growing into a blood-red shaggy mane, while coarse fur sprung up all over his body.

Straightening back to his feet, Kaecillius summoned one of his spears, roaring at the oncoming demon hoard, his now leonine face snarling in fury. The Ancient One didn't even spare a glance towards her were-lion friend, instead simply taking a few steps forwards, summoning magic arrays around her hands, before slamming them into the ground at her feet.

Causing nearly twenty tentacles of energy and rock to burst from the ground and start crushing demons left and right. The swarm was halted in its charge, and with a battle cry the other wizards joined the fray, slinging spells left and right. Kaecillius tore through demons left and right, moving with supernatural grace and speed, but even he paled to the Ancient One letting loose. With every move of her glowing arms, the very ground and air turned itself on the demons, large sinkholes swallowing up their putrid forms by the dozens, targeted tornados flinging even the largest of their number around like ragdolls.

It was what Strange had showcased during his battle with Thanos on Titan, turned up to Eleven.

Phineas continued his hurried explanation.

"Using Cross Technology, we managed to set up a crude cordon around Central Park, enlarging cars and stones and stuff. They came in waves, all throughout the night. On the second day S.H.I.E.L.D. arrived and started giving air support. They also started combing through New York to pick off the demons that had slipped past us, with me, Carter and Fury coordinating and Cap leading the ground forces. With our backs secured and air support in place, we finally had the chance to put up siege equipment in place and to wall of all of Central Park using Cross Tech. The Army managed to come on the third day, which we really needed, because the demons had kept on coming, and most of us were dead on our feet by then. The Army even brought in Blonsky, literally dropping him in the middle of the demon infestation, and he went to town on them, which gave us some breathing room for a few hours. Then he ran into one of the holes, and has presumably gone _through_ the massive portal that we suspect is underneath the network of tunnels that the demons have been using to get around. Some of them are in the subways, though it's almost impossible to keep track of all of them. Anyway, the Abomination is either dead, or in Hell, and we're stretched _way_ too thin to go looking for him. But between Othrys, the Avengers, the Army and SHIELD, things we're finally looking up: we were digging in, the strike teams had a chance to take a breather, and it all appeared as if we were building up for a successful counter push."

"Let me guess: Dormammu." I said grimly, seeing Phineas nod as he shows us footage of an enormous sinkhole opening up above New York, similar to what was shown in the Dr. Strange movie.

"The army had just barely arrived or the sky did… _that_. Sucked up about a third of all our aircraft, and a significant part of mine and Stark's drone fleet. The Helicarrier had to break off and make an emergency landing in Washington Square Park, knocking over the Arch, because a tentacle ripped off one of its engines. Apparently, with the Ancient One and most of the Masters on the battlefield, the Sanctums were left understaffed, and the three were attacked simultaneously and successfully. It completely blind-sided all of us, and it didn't help that our freshest troops were the least well equipped. Most of the Avengers and the Othrys combatants were running on fumes. We even had _Loki_ released so he could join the fight, just so that we could give some of our other combatants some down-time. Thankfully, the Ancient One slapped him with an unbreakable, uncharmable bracelet, so we know it's still him and not an illusion while he sneaked away. All this meant that when Dormammu started bringing his army in, we were suddenly getting hammered _hard_. The best we could do is fall back to our perimeter and defend the line. Thankfully, New York had steadily been evacuating ever since Hell's first attack, so by this point it was declared that danger-close was acceptable and our jet fighters could swoop in to start fighting off Dormammu, though they had to get close to the point that most surrounding buildings now lack all of their windows… and in some cases their upper levels."

The creatures sent in by Dromammu were markedly different from the more traditional demons from the Hell Dimension. Where the Hell-demons were the classical bestial beings of fire, Dormammu's spawn would fit much better with some Lovecraftian setting. What I assumed to be hordes of Mindless Ones fell in the dozens to Earth from the portal in the sky, most of them appearing like bipedal humanoids, as if the effect that Kaecillius had around his eyes had continued along their entire bodies. Great beasts of chitin and dark flesh began leaping from building to building. Heaving tentacles, immense in length and making impossible turns extended through the hole in the sky, swatting at everything that came near it (including the few airborne demons that wandered to close) and drawing it inside of the portal, like an octopus gorging itself.

If the demons of Hell caused feelings of anger within me, then seeing Dormammu's vile spawn caused sheer fucking _hate_ to boil my blood, and I found myself breathing heavily as the temperature within Oliver's cabin started to rise.

Phineas hurriedly kept talking though, either not noticing or not caring about my visible anger.

"We were still suffering heavy casualties, being caught between a rock and a hard place, with demons on both sides now. We might have been forced to give up several of our defensive positions, but thankfully, Jessica arrived and managed to hold the line, allowing Harper's team and the Avengers some much needed rest, and giving the Army the chance to dig in and hold the line."

My heart clenches when Phineas shows footage of a blur slamming into a large Dormammu spawn that had jumped off the top of a building, descending on a platoon of soldiers down below. The impact caused a brief shock-wave, and the ten feet tall extra-dimensional horror was sent flying several hundred meters, the side of what passed for its chest completely caved in. The blur descends to the ground, taking out several of the Hell demons that had been harassing the soldiers, finally coming to a stop with her boot crushing one of their spines. The heavy trench coat, burning eyes and Extremis skin are unmistakable.

As is the slight bump of her belly.

"On the fourth day, when we had managed to fight off Dormammu's surprise attack, it was decided that we would make our own surprise attack on the Hell Portal, since it was deemed an easier-access target than the portal in the sky. Closing it would allow the Ancient One and the other wizards to focus on sealing Dormammu again. A strike team made of the Avengers and elite SHIELD strike teams, the Hysminai and Jessica riding Susan, and the Ancient One and Kaecillius fought their way through the army of demons, tracking the residual gamma-energy trail that Blonsky had left."

Not gonna lie, seeing the Avengers, Hysminai, wizards, spies and Jessica group up and kicking the shit out of a demon horde might just be the coolest thing that I have ever seen, a concert of death as they cut down dozens and dozens of demons with a coordination that was inhuman and with powers that came straight out of legend. The demons barely had any time to feel fear before they were ripped apart by lightning, lasers, magic or superhuman fists.

"They got pretty close, but when they pinpointed the portal, an energy-field sprung up between them, and they couldn't breach it. It was technology of a level even higher than Othrys, and since they were surrounded by demons from all side they didn't have the time to try and dismantle it, so they had to fight their way back. Black Widow didn't make it."

My eyes briefly widen at the news. While I wasn't close to Romanov during this life, she had still been one of the heroes that I had enjoyed watching back in my old universe, and knowing that I had changed things to the point that one of the heroes died before their time was oddly… disheartening.

That said, I wasn't _surprised_. After all it's rather foolish to run into an army of demons armed only with a Taser. Something like that was going to happen sooner or later.

Still, her death merely galvanized me, my desire… no, my _need_ to reduce these abominations tarnishing _my_ planet to their constituent atoms only growing.

"We were all exhausted, angry and hurt by that point, and Widow's death pushed us over the edge. We scrambled every bird we had, and made a move to unleash all of our ordinance on the area surrounding the portal and force-field. It was a very near thing, or _we_ would have gone for the nuclear option this time. However, the moment that we started the move, high-yield explosives began to go off all over New York. It quickly became apparent that whenever we approached with a jet or something, a bomb would go off, and so we had to scrap that tactic. We were literally forced into a grinding infantry battle, with Dormammu pelting us from above. So, on the fifth day, we decided that if we couldn't attack Hell directly, we would instead attack Dormammu. The Ancient One had a plan of entering the Dark Dimension and using the Eye of Agamotto to either defeat Dormammu in combat, or otherwise to close the portal from _that_ side. She was accompanied by a similar strike team as during the attack on the Hell-portal, while SHIELD was diverting all of its resources to locating any bombs that might be used for the next "warning". A few went off, but between them, Stark and me, we got most of them. But when the strike team got close enough in the Quinjet, they were cut off by what seemed to be another demon on a Star Wars-like speeder. We have confirmation from SHIELD as well as an anonymous call that this entity is the Ghost Rider, though it's unknown why it's aiding Hell, or Dormammu. Fuck, we still don't know why _those_ two have teamed up!" Phineas says in a harried tone, but my eyes are completely focused on the flame-wreathed figure that flies around on a futuristic looking speeder, throwing a burning chain around one of the Quinjet's wings and pulling it down.

It's quickly smashed aside by Thor, but worryingly enough, even getting hit in the side with Mjolnir seems to be insufficient to put it down.

Instead, the roaring flames around it's charred-black skull merely seem to glow even brighter, though whether that showcases anger or excitement is anyone's guess.

It looks slightly… _off_ compared to how it's usually depicted though. The skull isn't a smooth white, but a broken, charred gray, as if its own flames are hurting it. Most Ghost Riders also don't have fangs, as far as I can recall. And its proportions aren't… _human_. The spine is too long, as are its arms, and it definitely has claws instead of fingers. It's legs are digitigrade, and on the footage a tail is clearly visible.

The most worrying part however is the clear sign of Dormammu carved into the exposed bone of its forehead and the tell-tale signs of Dark Dimension corruption visible in its empty sockets.

"The Ghost Rider fought off the combined might of the Avengers and Jessica long enough that Dormammu's tentacles managed to bundle together, and unleash an enormous energy wave. It atomized the Quinjet, carved a trench all down the length of Fifth Avenue and clipped Thor, who would've died if Loki hadn't managed to pull him out of the way. He's lost an arm though, but he still claims to be combat capable, and considering he's still on his feet and Mjolnir is still crushing demon skulls, none of us have really bothered to go against him. That was six hours ago… Michael… what are we going to do?"

Again silence falls over the cabin, as I look past Phineas' face and down to the approaching surface. I can see Central Park from this height, much of its greenery set aflame, and massive walls of a dark metal, twenty feet thick and sixty feet high surrounding it. The rest of New York isn't in much better shape, looking even worse than in the aftermath of the One Day War. We're only a minute away from New York, though Oliver will have to slow down significantly in order to keep our arrival from doing more damage than five days of interdimensional warfare.

"Hell is on our doorstep. Demons are swarming our streets. And humanity has been fighting off the apocalypse for days on end. What do you _think_ we're gonna do?" I say in a heated tone, looking from my companions to Phineas, before a large grin splits my face.

"We're gonna fucking _win_ this!"

Seeing answering grins from the people around me, I focus back on Phineas.

"Soter. Send out the call to all commanders: Pull back from Central Park. I'm going in, and with the amount of firepower I'm bringing, everything not outside of those walls is danger-close. We close the portal to Hell first. Then _I'll_ deal with Dormammu after. The Ghost Rider is probably going to run interference, and since the Sanctums were attacked simultaneously, it probably has allies. I want everyone else to run counter-interference, so that I can close the portals. _Then_ we'll go after the one responsible for all this with _everything_ we got."

"You got it, Hyperion."

"Sterns, when we're half a kilometer above Central Park, open the door and let me out. Open the cargo-hold shortly after. The rest of you, wait until the lightshow is over, than form up on me: we'll push towards the portal while the Avengers and Harper keep everybody, and ever _thing_ else from our asses. Rocket, Groot, Peter: consider this your first performance review. Bill: it isn't Muspelheim, but you, out of everyone else here _knows_ what will happen if demons claim victory. This is your chance to keep that from happening _again_. Can I count on you all?"

Getting various nods, grins and even a 'yes sir!' from Peter, I give a satisfied nod, before I feel Oliver come to a halt. Without a word, Sterns shifts his seat back far enough that I can easily pass him, while Oliver's door opens without any visible input from the scientist. Instead, he merely gives me a grim nod, before his own faceplate slams down, his mechanical arms whirring to life.

Clearly, he's not willing to sit this one out.

As soon as the door is opened, I dash outside of Oliver's cabin, letting gravity drag me down before I start pouring on the speed with my natural flight and the various Blue Boxes in my Aurelion Armor. Below me, I can see a horde of demons look up at me, before they start swarming towards where I'm going to crash. They range from the size of a dog to as large as a tank, but the smaller ones seem more abundant, while the larger ones (commanders or something, I guess) are far rarer.

In a move not out of place of the World War Z movie, they start piling on top of each other, and even as I descend to earth, they start clawing towards the sky. The distance keeps shortening, and I barely even pay attention to the sonic boom in my wake. My entire focus is on the swarm beneath me as I hurtle towards the grounds at speeds that would simply flatten most other organics.

As the distance between me and the multitude of claws, teeth and flames decreases from a few hundred meters to just a few dozen in the blink of an eye, I flood my body with Chi, raise my shield with the Power Stone shining brightly in the middle, a purple-golden glow shining over the entire battlefield, a high-pitched whine building around me, at the very last second I flip a switch in my armor…

… and I hit with the power of a nuke. A purple ring of sheer power plows into the Earth and rapidly expands outwards, the entirety of New York buckling underneath my onslaught. All of Central Park and the city blocks surrounding it are sandblasted by the tidal wave of dust and debris that my impact created.

In the wake of the physical wall of sound that reverberated across the battlefield, there's only a deathly silence, as all combating parties keep their eyes fixed on the raging dust-cloud that Central Park has become. When the dust starts to settle, they first see the outer limits of what once used to be one of the most famous parks in the world.

Nothing but bare earth and upturned trees has been left. The very ground has torn and buckled, great crevices and mounds of earth jagging through the newly formed wasteland. Spread across the ruined land lie the mangled corpses of what once a terrifying demonic host, their bodies now shattered and broken. Their pitiful remains have been shoved against the enormous walls, to the point that they nearly reach the top.

And those were the ones on the outskirts of my attack.

Further inwards, the cracks and ravines make way for compressed earth, the ground here flattened by so much force that it has been compressed into a flat, smooth surface. Occasionally a smear can be seen across the eerie plain: all that remains of the more unfortunate demons.

And finally, the dust around me settles, revealing first a gleaming area of obsidian, a testament to the amount of heat and pressure that was generated by my attack. Again, the area is compressed into a flat surface, but at the very epicenter, there's an enormous crater, easily capable of containing several Olympic-level swimming pools.

And in the center of that crater… _me._

A hundred foot tall version of me, _Harpe_ in one hand, shield in the other, my entire body glowing with Extremis and Chi. Looking over the scene of destruction that I have left, I decide that using the Cross Technology in my armor was a good call, grim satisfaction rising within me when I look at the mounds of demonic corpses pushed up against the now tiny looking walls. I look towards Dormammu's portal, which is located halfway between Central Park and Othrys. Much of his forces have survived, but while I really want to start cutting them all to bits, my work here isn't finished yet, my thoughts punctuated by the cracking noised underneath my feet.

The portal to Hell remains, though the force-field that protected it has shorted out, whatever equipment that had maintained it having perished under my assault.

At the thought of the demons rising up underneath my feet, my anger reaches a new crescendo, and with a growl which shakes the earth, I grip my scythe tighter. In response to my thoughts, my Leviathan, whose presence I can feel in my mind, descends from above, coiling it's Cross Tech-enhanced body around me, dwarfing the Chitauri mounts from the One Day War. I didn't dare use him in space, where the Chitauri (and their connection to Thanos) we're widely known, where he would draw unwanted attention.

However, it's unlikely these demons recognize the Leviathan and even if they did, I doubt they'll reach out to Thanos in order to tell him.

A few dozen feet behind me, I can hear Oliver land, the rest of my companions quickly exiting as they look around them with awe-struck faces.

"Remind me to never again antagonize you by claiming you're a dark evil overlord?" Rocket mutters weakly.

A couple of faces appear on the HUD in my helmet, patched through by Phineas: Fury, Carter, the Ancient One and Phineas himself.

Phineas is the first to speak.

"Michael, what was that?" he asks in a small voice, but I'm too distracted to really listen to or care about his question.

The demons underneath are moving closer and closer.

" **Later. Got incoming. Keep your forces on Dormammu, and keep an eye out for Ghost Rider. I'll be done here soon."** I growl, my eyes burning inferno's at the thought of killing more demons.

Carter and Fury frown, but recognize that right now isn't the time for a briefing, no matter how much this display made all the alarm bells in their minds go off. Phineas of course won't push me (not in front of outsiders at least), but the Ancient One shoots me a considering look.

" **You know why I'm so angry."**

It wasn't a question, and the Ancient One doesn't interpret it as one, instead answering straight to the point.

"You are Hyperion. The Titan of Fire and _Heavenly Light_. The beings from the Dark Dimension, be it Hell or Dormammu's realm, they are an _anathema_ to you. Their very _existence_ registers as an insult to a being of your alignment." She stresses.

" **Alignment? I'm no saint Ancient One, you've told me so multiple times. How come I'm so far up on the scale of Good that I'm an enemy of demonkind?"** I ask skeptically, only to receive a small, tired grin.

"Who ever said anything about _Good_? I'm talking about _Light_. Whether you do Good or Evil with either Dark or Light, that is up to you, and is defined by your peers. But as a being of Light, beings of Dark are your eternal enemy, on a level that very few mortals can truly comprehend." The Ancient One explains, but I have to cut her off.

" **Incoming."** I simply say, getting only grim nods in return as the others disconnect their call.

They know their part.

" **Look alive! Or you won't be for much longer!"** I yell out to my team, my voice easily carrying multiple city blocks, and it even makes Peter and Rocket stumble due to its sheer volume.

And with that, just as the first clawed hand bursts through the thick layer of obsidian, I slam the point of my kite-shield (now larger than most billboards) into the ground, the purple energy of the Power Stone shooting into it in a great beam of light, the ground around me buckling as I unleash the might of an Infinity Stone once again.

Despite the large scale of my attack, I'm not acting recklessly. I could destroy the planet if I handled the Power Stone incorrectly, as various Celestials have proven and Ronan almost accomplished. Instead of letting the Power spread though, I instead funnel it and channel it downwards, a great beam of force digging into the shattered crust underneath me.

The demons below me are vaporized, and a great sinkhole opens up beneath my gargantuan feet as tonnes of dirt and rock are reduced to nothing with a contemptuous ease. Looking down into the shaft I have opened up, I see several enormous holes opens up into varying other tunnels, a whole neatwork spread out underneath Central Park and even further.

Because I needed to keep the attack contained, and I don't have enough experience with the Stone yet to risk using more complicated attacks other than either a _lot_ downwards, or relatively _little_ sideways, the areas away from my attack have been left undisturbed this time.

All over the 4 kilometer long stretch of destroyed land, holes open up as demons crawl to the surface. Instead of appearing as an invasion force however, it's very clear that these are _fleeing_.

From me.

I want to order my team to take care of the stragglers while I descend in order to close the portal, but a look over my shoulder shows me that they didn't need any prompting. Beta-Ray Bill has bounded away into a large group of demons, ripping them apart with his gladiator weapons and bare hands with a savagery that would have been unsettling if it weren't on my side. Rocket and Peter are making liberal use of the spray-and-pray technique, their exotic weaponry chewing through the demons as if they were made of tissue paper. The few demons that get close enough to attack them meet a messy end at the hands of Groot, though the sapient tree is careful to only grab the demons that aren't on fire.

Sterns has his mechanical arms extended as far as they'll go and has two auto-turrets placed on his shoulder, each one twice as large as he is. He seems perfectly fine with pretending to be a living piece of artillery, nailing large clusters of demons even kilometers away with pin-point accuracy and explosive ordinance.

And Oliver…

I couldn't see Oliver. Before I can ping Sterns' communicator however, a shadow falls over me. Thinking it a spawn of Dormammu, I raise my scythe with a snarl, only to relax when I see that it's Oliver, flying towards a group of fleeing demons a few hundred meters away.

Instead of deploying guns, however, it overshoots them, crashing into the ground in front of them, actually… _rolling_ over the ground? There's a whining sound as several parts of Oliver start shifting in an accurate imitation of Tony's first Iron Man suit's, electric blue light flickering between the shifting seams in his changing form.

And then Oliver comes to his… feet, one arm held up at the fleeing band of demons, his other resting at his side, a sword of all things held comfortably in his hand.

"Oliver?! What are you doing?!" I can hear Sterns yell out in shock, and I can certainly share the sentiment, simply staring at the truck like an idiot.

" _Helping. There's a thin line between being a hero and being a memory._ " The mechanical voice of Oliver buzzes towards us.

"Uhh, guys?! Why is our vehicle imitating Optimus Prime?!" I hear Peter yell, before he ducks underneath a swipe from what appears to be the illegitimate offspring of a gorilla and a warthog, before kicking it in the nether regions, blasting its face off once its fallen to its knees.

For a moment none of us say anything, before Sterns speaks up, the pride in his voice unmistakable.

"Well, what better role model is there for transportation vehicles?"

"… fair enough." Peter mutters, before lobbing a bomb into the open maw of a snake-like demon, who has exactly two seconds to look nonplussed before the upper part of its body vanishes.

Meanwhile, the demons that have been halted by Oliver are looking restless, and several of them are clearly tired of waiting. Five dart forwards, intent on ripping the fifteen feet tall mecha to shreds, but a blue light shines from Oliver's chest as he grips his sword with two hands.

Then, in the time that it would take a person to blink, there are 6 flashes, and OIiver is back standing in the exact same location as before, while before him lie 5 bisected demons, their cut off edges of their bodies still steaming.

" _Surrender, villain! Or taste defeat at the edge of my blade!"_

The demons, being demons, do not in fact surrender, instead either trying to flee or attack him. Both are equally useless, as Oliver uses the Space Stone in his chest to great effect, blue flashes lighting up all around the battlefield, as if he were the MCU's equivalent of Minato Namikaze, demons dying in droves before they even have a chance to comprehend what cut them down.

Focusing on my own task, I look down at the sinkhole underneath me. It barely fits me, and I don't see the benefit of taking my Leviathan with me in what is probably going to be a very cramped battlefield. Instead, I send it towards the sky with a thought, where it starts chomping down on airborne Hell demons and the spawn of Dormammu that drops down from the gaping hole in the sky.

Looking back down again after watching my Leviathan swallow a demon commander in a single bite, I stop flying, and instead allow gravity to drag me down into the massive sinkhole I created. My armor and body provide sufficient light for me to see even without assistance from my helmet, and it doesn't take long for my eyes to see a noticeable larger tunnel off to the side.

It's half buried by rubble, but I don't really bother clearing it away. I instead raise my shield, and immediately accelerate forwards. I'm much too large to fit through the tunnel anyways, so instead I keep following its twists and turns as I slam all surrounding stone out of my way. Despite the large size of the sprawling network of tunnels, I arrive at the main chamber of the portal fairly soon, having followed the path in an ever downwards facing slope.

I'm around a kilometer underground, or so my HUD tells me.

The cavern that I'm standing in has been reinforced, and is large enough to house a football-stadium with ease. Such an enormous cavern so deep underground ought to collapse under the weight of all the stone above it (not to mention my two attacks), if it weren't for the impossibly thin struts lining the walls all the way up to the ceiling, coming together in the center, like a dark mockery of what you see in churches.

If it survived two attacks from the Power Stone (though very muted) then it's definitely not any tech known to man, that's for damn sure, but I have no idea what it could be.

Underneath it lies the portal, about the size of a large swimming pool, and a continuous stream of demons keeps pouring out of it, dozens at a time. However, instead of making a mad scramble for the dozens and dozens of tunnels that all lead to the surface above, they keep crowding around the portal, with several demons actually returning from the tunnels and taking up position in the main chamber.

The number of commander-class demons here is significantly higher than what I flattened on the surface, and there are a handful that are even larger than that, though none of them reach my size. They are all standing between me and the portal, and while some of them look fearful, it's clear that this small army is supposed to keep me away from their only way into this world.

And the only way back to their own.

As if an army of _filthy_ , _disgusting_ demons is capable of standing against the might of me! _Hyperion_ , Lord of the Sun and Titan of Heavenly Light!

…

Ahem.

There _might_ be a point to what the Ancient One says.

Still, I embrace my anger, which in turn is amplified by the Berserker-handle of my _Harpe_. With my blood singing in my veins and the ground underneath my feet melting from the heat I'm giving off, I step into the cavern with an army of demons before me.

For a moment, there's no movement at all, both sides merely sizing each other up. Then one leader lets out a challenging war cry, hurling his spear (which is on fire, _of course_ ) towards me at impressive speeds.

In a golden flash, my burning blade has come up in a graceful arc, cutting the spear neatly in half.

Still, while the demon leader is somewhat startled, his cry had its desired effect: as one, the demons start crossing the few dozen meters between us, and with a bloodthirsty grin, I pull back my scythe.

" **What can the harvest hope for, but the** _ **care**_ **of the Reaper Man?** " I say with a dark laugh, and then the _Harpe_ descends, its golden after-glow cutting through two dozen demons, before the glow fades, and they fall in pieces to the ground.

And with that, the slaughter begins.

I have barely lost any of the speed I have in my regular form, and the blade of my scythe is now roughly the length of a bus, its Vibranium-Chitauri alloy, enhanced with my Chi and Asgardian battle magic, capable of cutting through demon flesh like a hot knife through butter.

Each cut claims a dozen lives or more, and each next cut follows within a second of the previous one, moving too fast for the demons to have any hope of dodging. Not even ten seconds pass, yet nearly a third of the demons here have perished, even with the constant resupply of the portal.

Soon, the pale gold of my greaves is hidden by the dark blood of the demon horde, but _Harpe_ 's blade remains flawless, either because of its enchantments or because it simply cleaves through the demons too fast to be tainted by their _filth_.

A savage joy overtakes me, and it takes me a few moments to understand that the echoing drone that fills the cavern is actually my laughter. This feels _right_ in a way that very few things have ever done in either of my life. It transcends physical gratification, it feels as if my very _soul_ is getting a shot of adrenaline and cocaine mixed with hard liquor.

I'm euphoric.

This is my _purpose_.

This is… not what I'm here for, I suddenly realize.

It takes a monumental amount of willpower to regain control of myself, to the point that I stop hacking in on every living thing around me in order to center myself. I didn't come here just to kill demons, I had a goal in mind. A tactic, a strategy to keep to.

I had people on the surface who were counting on me, even now.

Coming back down to earth, I notice three things.

One: I am up to my ankles in cut up demon corpses, a pretty impressive feat considering the size of said ankles.

Two: several of the larger demons have taken advantage of my lapse in attention and are currently in the middle of executing a multi-pronged attack on me.

Three: a hand is coming through the portal.

It's almost as large as mine.

I react half on instinct, half on battle-hardened reflexes as I take care of the immediate problem. The footsoldiers of this army are inconsequential (as much as a part of me is pained by the idea of not killing every single last one of them), while the larger demons only form a threat when they get the drop on me, like now. Then there's the giant hand currently entering Earth, meaning there's a boss coming. I don't know what the hierarchy of Hell is supposed to be in the MCU, but if it's a Hell-Lord of Mephisto's caliber, then I'm in for the fight of my life.

So, I duck down under a swing from a large flying demon wielding a bearded axe, and in the same move slam my shield into the ground, killing many of the demons in my direct surroundings, and pushing back several of the larger ones that were about to attack me, giving me some breathing room.

I let go of the _Harpe_ as I deftly spin around a spear thrust from a porcupine looking demon with seven eyes (none of them in his head though), using that same movement to backswing my shield into a demon that looks like a Balrog with obesity. The demon's front is caved in completely as it is blown back _into_ the far wall of the cavern, crushing several smaller demons under its lifeless bulk.

Meanwhile, I had kept a telekinetic hold of the _Harpe_ and with a thought, it shrinks down to Ant-man size, flits upwards to the flying demon (who's still looking at me) and then enlarges again, cutting the demon neatly down the middle in a sudden arc of golden light, before it disappears from view again.

While this process repeats itself rapidly all across the cavern, cutting down demons that were out of my immediate reach or who appeared to be agile and fast enough to be too bothersome to try and hit with my shield, I keep brawling with the demons closer to me, the two simultaneous attacks barely a strain on my mental focus.

The melee type of demons all resemble Balrogs and Pitlords, and I honestly cannot see much that differentiates them from the rest of their species, other than their choice in armor and weaponry (not that I really care to look for it though). Their size and thick flesh clearly would've made them effective shock-troops against most species, and my people on the surface would've been forced to divert significant fire-power to take each one down, allowing their brethren to breach the weak point that would open up in the defenses.

Unfortunately for them, they have never had to deal with something both significantly faster, as well as infinitely stronger than them.

I keep spinning around their attacks, taking out more and more of their number by using those spins to backhand them in the face with an Infinity Stone. Most crumple up like tin-foil and are ragdolled across the cavern. A few of the weaker ones get entire parts of their bodies disintegrated. Those few that manage to use the deaths of their comrades in order to get close to me are taken care off with swift jabs of my Meteor Fist, its size and glow now properly doing the name justice, caving in demon skulls with every blow.

With the grace of the Heart-Shaped Herb and the enhanced senses provided by the Mind Stone, not a single demon out of the hundreds that are descending upon me from all sides are capable of even so much as scratching my armor.

Whenever their numbers grow too great, I simply slam my shield into the floor, or summon _Harpe_ back to me and enlarge it, before spinning it around me in a cyclone of death.

All the while, I'm moving towards the portal, where a flaming red arm has now gone completely through. It's clawed fingers scramble at the burning edges of the portal, and before my eyes, it starts to push it wider, allowing more of it to come through.

I don't _think_ it's Mephisto (too much fire), but since he wasn't shown in the MCU I cannot be sure, and I _definitely_ do not want to take any chances.

Still, while the demon horde is barely slowing me down, they _are_ slowing me down. Seeing the second arm come through, which begins pushing against the edges of the portal as well, I let out a hate filled roar, the sound loud enough that I see several lesser demons grab at their heads in clear agony, dark blood seeping from their ears, noses, mouths and eyes (where applicable).

Raising my shield and tucking in my head, I dash towards the portal, brutally shield-bashing everything out of my way and leaving a sonic boom in my wake. I ignore the swathe of death that I carved through their forces, and instead raise the _Harpe_ high above my head, its blade filled with a hungry golden glow…

… only for a burning chain to wrap itself around my forearm. The pain is surprisingly agonizing, especially since I'm supposed to be immune to fire, but what's more surprising is that the chain in successful in halting my arm.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see the Ghost Rider standing on its speeder, both hands wrapped tightly around the chain that's digging into my arm, the highly durable metal plating warping under the effects of the dark Hellfire, my skin boiling from the supernatural heat. The chain is straining to its limits though, several links already deforming and nearly breaking, and I can see the Ghost Riders has its flaming speeder, complete with embossed skulls, riding away from me with as much power as possible, yet my arm won't budge.

With a snarl and a thought, the _Harpe_ leaves my hand and curves up behind me, neatly cutting through the enchanted chain in a single cut. The sudden lack of tension nearly sends the Ghost Rider flying, and I immediately recall my scythe, intend on finishing my job.

But when I turn back to the portal, I'm met with a burning fist to the face. The blow completely blindsided me, which is impressive considering its size, and the strength behind it was sufficient to briefly daze me, though I keep my ground.

Right until a double fisted hammer blow meets the other side of my helmet on the return swing, with enough force to lift me of my feet and send me crashing into the far wall. In a matter of moments I'm back on my feet though and I lay eyes on my attacker.

Relief and confusion flood me in equal measure, since the sixty foot tall demon standing in front of the portal definitely isn't Mephisto, but I'm having some trouble placing him.

Thankfully, he takes care of that.

"HAHA! EARTH! BOW DOWN TO YOUR NEW MASTER! TREMBLE AT THE REIGN OF BELATHAUZER!"

Right. Belathauzer. Class Three Demon. Two heads. Is on fire. Is also referred to as a Dark God and wants to rule Earth.

 _Pathetic_. I'll take great pleasure in _crushing_ this upstart _trash_.

Said trash turns his two heads towards the Ghost Rider.

"SPIRIT! YOUR MASTERY OF DARK MATTER HAS GREATLY EMPOWERED ME! YOUR AID IN RETURN SHALL NOT BE FORGOTTEN! WHEN THE PEOPLE OF EARTH LIE BOUND AT MY FEET, AND I HAVE DEFEATED MY REMAINING BRETHREN, THE ACCURSED CHILDREN OF ATUM, YOU SHALL HAVE A PLACE BESIDES MY DARK THRONE! NOW LEAVE ME! I SHALL FACE THIS CHALLENGER AND PROVE MY MIGHT TO ALL BE- urghk!"

His speech is brutally cut off, courtesy of my the blade of my _Harpe_ slamming into his chest and out of his back. His four eyes widen in surprise and pain, but I immediately follow up my attack with a Meteor Fist to the face (the right one), sending him flying into the far wall.

Seeing the Ghost Rider swing around its speeder in order to face me, I break off my next attack on Belathauzer and instead raise my shield towards the Spirit of Vengeance. Just in time as well, since the nose of the speeder opens up, showing an enormous cannon, which lets out a blast of brightly colored laser, which slams into my shield with a keening wail.

My shield briefly shimmers purple as the attack is rebuffed by the might of the Power Stone, leaving the glossy metal without so much as a scratch, but the splash damage around me tells me that taking that attack head on would've been a mistake, the ground turned to burning slag where parts of the broken beam impacted it, and the stench of burning bodies tells me several demons were caught in the crossfire.

The attack seems to have taken quite a bit out of the Ghost Rider's vehicle however, but before I can capitalize, I can see Belathauzer work himself back up to his clawed feet, a hateful snarl on both of his faces as he summons a burning zweihander out of thin air.

I don't particularly like the idea of being stuck fighting off both a Dark Dimension-empowered Ghost Rider and a Dark God, especially in an underground spawning cavern for an army of demons. I quickly decide on a course of action and turn towards the slower Belathauzer, keeping my shield between me and the far more agile Ghost Rider. Without warning, I shoot forwards, completely disregarding any lesser demons in my way, my golden glowing hand closing around Belathauzer's throat in a flash.

He has just enough time to widen his multiple eyes, before I shoot upwards, my shield leading away. Upon impact with the reinforced roof, the advanced tech that the support beams are made out of finally yields under a direct confrontation with the Power Stone, and the entire roof of the cavern is blown upwards.

I barely pause, pouring on even more speed, blasting the ground above me up and outwards, until after a few moments, the Dark God and I blast out of the earth in an enormous spray of dirt and gravel. Since we're so close together, Belathauzer doesn't have the room to wield his great sword, so with a double snarl, he dismisses the bulky weapon and instead summons two flaming daggers, which he attempts to slam into my sides.

The one on my left uselessly shatters against my shield, but the one on my right finds its mark, sinking in about the third of the way into my flesh underneath my outstretched arm, hindered by the massive and enchanted Aurelion Armour.

Still, the wound, while fairly minor, burns with a pain even greater than the chains of the Ghost Rider, and with a howl I retract the plates keeping the Mind Stone from view, and unleash a beam from my forehead about six times as large as what the Vision was capable of, straight into Belathauzer's face at point-blank range.

The pain of the stab wound refuses to go away though, even as the blade falls apart in gouts of Hellfire.

As the Dark God is sent flying across the entire length of Central Park, the roar of engines behind me alerts me to the Ghost Rider's approach, who bursts from the massive hole like the Spirit of Vengeance that it is, chains already whirling around it and several turrets extended from its speeders.

Before it can do more than take aim however, a blur slams into its side, sending it skidding across the ruined earth of what was once Central Park. Jessica is hovering in the air, her duster snapping around her as she crosses her arms in front of her chest, her eyes two burning infernos.

"Go. I'll deal with this one."

" **Thanks, Jess. Be safe."** I boom with a nod, one which she answers with a soft smile, before she dodges out of the way of one of the Ghost Rider's chains, and the battle between the two begins in earnest.

Hearing a garbled howl of immense rage, I focus back on my own fight, quickly pinging Sterns as I raise my scythe, and shoot towards where Belathauzer has worked himself back to his feet, having healed most of the damage, though his left face is definitely looking worse for wear, having lost several teeth and sporting what appears to be a dislocated jaw.

As I prepare to do battle with the Dark God once again, Sterns quickly takes my call.

"Sam. Portal, one click downwards. Have Oliver teleport you down there. It emits Quantum Energy. See if you can shut it down. Call for back-up if you need it. I'm gonna _kill_ this Dark God."

"Got it."

And with a blue flash, Sterns and Oliver are gone, having gone down into the belly of the beast. I knew that he should be able to come up with something given his mastery of the Quantum Realm and the fact that Aida, the robot Radcliffe would build in the Agents of SHIELD show, constructed a body for herself by channeling quantum energy from the Hell Dimension after obtaining the…

… the _Darkhold_.

A piece of technology from Hell, that drives people mad, and allows you to build whatever tool or machinery you require by, in the words of Radcliffe "blasting the universe's deepest thoughts through your eyeballs".

I think I know why the Ghost Rider is so powerful, other than its Dark Dimension enhancement.

It also explains its futuristic mount and the advanced technology keeping the portal secure.

As much as the dilemma of an empowered Ghost Rider is a pressing problem, I can't afford to think more on it, since Belathauzer and I are now in striking distance of each other. He has summoned his sword once more, but this time he has also shrouded his body in even more Hellfire than usual as a means of protection.

As I bat his sword aside with my shield, shattering it on impact and cut off one of his legs with a low swing of _Harpe_ , I show him that his efforts are futile before the Titan of the Sun.

With a snarl of pain and hate, Belathauzer falls backwards, but instead of hitting the ground he falls through a hastily summoned portal, which closes behind him just in time so that the blade of _Harpe_ slams into the ground instead of his abdomen.

Focusing my mind and senses, I can _feel_ his dark energy pop up several blocks away, behind the defender's lines. I immediately blast off towards his location, trusting my team and the defenders on the walls to keep the demon army here contained until Sterns can close the portal.

As I reach Belathauzer's position, I can see him standing in the open, his arms spread wide and a leg made of flame and dark magic replacing the one he lost until he regrows it. Both of his faces are grinning, though the one that took the full brunt of my Mind Stone beam is somewhat struggling with the expression, owing to the fact it's missing a significant part of its jaw.

"COME THEN! COME AND STRIKE ME DOWN! GO AHEAD!" the Demon Lord roars with booming laughter, immediately making me suspicious.

I come to a halt floating several hundred feet off the ground, and a roughly equal distance away from him, glaring down at him with a forbidding gaze and bared teeth.

" **What are you playing at, foul creature?"** I hiss, my rage building even higher as Belathauzer's grins grow wider.

"ASK THESE PATHETIC WORMS YOU TREASURE SO FOOLISHLY!" he crows, and turning to look at the various soldiers and S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents surrounding us, I realize with a grimace what he means.

All of them have taken out their weapon and placed it against their own temples. In a single move, the demon has taken hundreds of our defenders hostage.

" **You think this will save you,** _ **filth**_ **? This will be the day where you will** _ **finally**_ **be cut down and destroyed,** _ **demon**_ **, no matter how much you flail in the face of your own doom!"** I growl out, gaining a smirk from Belathauzer.

"AND HOW DO YOU ENVISION THAT? _ONE_ MOVE, AND YOUR PRECIOUS HUMANS PERISH AT THEIR OWN HANDS! YOU CANNOT _BARE_ TO HAVE THEIR DEATHS ON YOUR CONCIOUSS, CAN YOU?!" the demon laughs in a mocking tone, but my answer is quick to shut him up.

" **Indeed. But you are assuming that they shall perish at all. You are not the only one proficient in the Mind Arts, you pathetic** _ **worm**_ **."** I hiss out, and with a flex of my will, the Mind Stone in my helmet burns as bright as a sun.

I can see Belathauzer's control over the humans as fiery threads that extend from him into their heads. There are so many of them, it almost looks like a tapestry.

Fueled by the Mind Stone, I grab all of the threads simultaneously and with a great heave, _yank_ them from Belathauzer's body. Having exposed his own mind on such a large scale had taxed him, since he's unused to controlling so many humans at a single time, and the backlash of the violent disconnect between him and hundreds of minds is enough to cause him serious pain, as he sinks to his knees screaming, clutching at his head.

Before he can recover, I've dropped from the sky like a bullet, descending upon him faster than he can react. With a blinding downwards swing, the blade of _Harpe_ embeds itself into his chest, slamming him into the ground with enough force to crater the street and make the humans stumble, and pinning him there.

The demon howls in pain, ineffectively scrabbling at my greaves and the blade sticking out of his chest. His beady eyes focus on my faceplate, and he opens his mouth, unleashing a great bout of Hellfire, damaging it quite badly and shorting out my HUD for a few moments. It's abruptly cut off by my shield slamming into his face, the same one that got mauled by my Mind Stone attack. It's almost gone at this point, completely caved in, and it takes Belathauzer a few moments before he's coherent again.

"YOU CANNOT KILL ME! I'LL RETURN TO MY DIMENSION! I'LL WAIT! GROW STRONGER! AND WHEN ALL THAT YOU HAVE BUILT HAS BEEN REDUCED TO DUST BY THE PASSAGE OF TIME, I SHALL RETURN! I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD ON A PIKE AND PUT OUTSIDE MY GATES! YOU'LL _NEVER_ BE RID OF ME! I! AM! BELATHAUZER!"

" **Be** _ **silent**_ **."**

I raise my shield high above my head, the bottom edge pointing up towards the sunny sky over head. Once again, the Mind Stone starts glowing in my forehead, as large magical arrays spring into existence around my raised arm, growing to immense size and revolving faster and faster.

I wasn't a Master of the Mystic Arts. That required a level of time and devotion that I simply had not yet put in my studies.

But I _did_ have an understanding of Magic that was rather unique, thanks to my extensive testing with Pangborn and Maya Hansen on the very principles and building blocks of spells.

 _And_ I had a body that was a Magically attuned powerhouse.

But more importantly, I was _Hyperion_. The Sun was _mine_ to command.

What I did wasn't a spell in the strictest sense, but more a manifestation of my Will, shaped by the immensely powerful energies of my Mind, enhanced as it was by an Infinity Stone.

When I closed my raised fist, my hand didn't close on empty air, but on something more… _solid_.

" **INVICTUS!"**

Feeling the build-up of energies above him, and probably sensing their intent as well, Belathauzer shows true fear for the first time, his struggles to free himself from the scythe pinning him to the ground reaching frantic levels.

" **SOL!"**

A beam of sunlight, thicker than most skyscrapers, descends from the heavens at blinding speed, impacting my raised shield, which starts glowing bright enough that I have to close my eyes. Bathed in the beam of concentrated sunlight, I let out a roar which shakes the surrounding buildings to their very foundations, before I _slam_ my shield into Belathauzer's face, the enormous beam following in its wake.

The Dark God's screams are drowned out as a shockwave brings down the surrounding buildings and a beam of light consumes us both. After several long moments, the light starts to fade, the enormous beam slowly thinning, before disappearing entirely.

And all that remains is me, standing in red-white glowing armor, and a completely burnt out street, a dark stain underneath me the only remnant of what was once the Dark God Belathauzer.

It took nearly all of my magical power and mental fortitude, not just to summon the spell, but to keep it from glassing the surface of the entire North-American continent.

And perhaps even more.

I drop to a single knee in exhaustion, the air still shimmering with remaining heat, breathing out a deep sigh of bone-deep fatigue and relief, my eyelids growing extraordinarily heavy.

I did it.

I defeated- no. I _erased_ a Dark God, who had been boosted by a Darkhold wielding, Dormammu-empowered Ghost Rider, in personal combat.

Fuck yeah.

Before I allow myself to simply collapse where I stand (or rather, where I'm kneeling), I contact Sterns. He immediately takes my call (to my mild surprise, it's routed through one of Phineas' drones, showing me footage of the cavern from a spot a few feet to Stern's left) and I can see that he's crouched right in front of the portal, continuous blue flashes showing that Oliver is busy watching his creator's back.

Judging by the fact that the demon bodies are stacked higher than Sterns is tall, he's doing a damned fine job of it too.

"Sam?"

"Give me a moment! You were right about the Quantum energy! I'm putting up what's essentially a jammer and signal scrambler in one, keyed into the frequency of their Quantum-string fields! Basically, it should rip itself apart…. NOW!"

At his shouted command, Oliver teleports next to him, grabs his shoulder, and teleports away in a blue flash, leaving a boxy contraption lying on the floor, which is covering in glowing lines and blinking lights. Phineas leaves his drone, allowing us to keep a watch on what I assume to be is a bomb of some kind.

Several demons jump towards it, but right as the fastest one reaches out, nearly touching it with his long, clawed fingers, the bomb goes off, a flash of light and energy blasting outwards in a bright cone. Phineas' drone is sent spinning away, it's footage shorting out several times before it dies completely, but what I saw was enough.

The portal collapsed in on itself, while the demons that were within the range of the cone run around screaming as their very flesh starts losing cohesion, sloughing of their bodies as they die a messy and slow death.

Turn out, when your living tissue is in part created by Quantum energy from the Hell Dimension, and someone just so happens to completely disrupt and negate that energy, said living tissue becomes… _unraveled_.

I let out a grin as I work myself back to my feet with a monumental effort, looking over the rooftops of several buildings towards the thick of the fighting. The demons that were already out of the caverns are still here, but now their numbers aren't being constantly refilled, making it possible to stamp out their infestation to the very last.

Dormammu's portal is still open though, disgorging its own vile creations, but even as my gaze tracks towards it, I can see my Leviathan (it's head about as large as an entire regular-sized Leviathan) barrel through several of the larger spawn of the Dark Dimension, slamming into them with contemptuous ease and batting them around with a tail the size of a building.

And several he simply swallows whole.

Seeing the tide of battle turn back into our favor, I let out a large grin as I prepare to join the fray again.

We can do this.

We can _win_.

Of course, that's when things go to absolute shit.

The Ghost Rider slams into existence about a hundred meters away from me, roaring out of a Hell-portal.

And dragged behind it, with its chained wrapped tight around her neck as she struggles for air, is Jessica.

 _Rage_ that transcends every single notion of the concept that I have experienced until now roars to life within me, but before I've done more than raise my scythe, the Ghost Rider reels in Jessica, placing one clawed skeletal hand above her face.

As I freeze in place, the skull of the Ghost Rider seems to grin even wider, before it dismisses its flames.

"Hello Michael. I hope you haven't forgotten about me? I _certainly_ haven't forgotten about _you_." She says, and all that I can do is look in stunned silence into the twisted face of a grinning Shuri.

* * *

 **AN:** Right, this is only Part I, but I have class in a few minutes, and I wanted to get this out right now, before it takes me another week to get back into the flow of things. So yeah, hope you liked that. Cheers!

 **Fun Fact:** The story for _Avengers: Endgame_ features several of the characters splitting up and going on different journeys. As a result, not everyone needed to read the full script—which also meant that it could be easier to suppress spoilers and leaks of plot points by having fewer eyes on the full script. Of the entire cast, only Robert Downey Jr. got to read the full script for the film.


	46. To Hell and Back - Part II

_**To Hell and Back**_

 **Part II**

* * *

I could only stare in silent fury and shock at the viciously grinning Shuri, her clawed hand still held dangerously close to Jessica's face. The rage in her expression and the fire in her eyes were clear indications of her fury, but Shuri's clawed fingertips resting almost gently on the skin near her eyes prevented Jessica from moving. Instead, she merely gripped the blackened chain that was wrapped tightly around her neck with both her arms, trying to create enough room for her to breathe. Despite her enormous strength and durability, the enchanted links of the Ghost Rider's chains barely gave way as she wrestled with it.

"What's the matter, Michael? Cat got your tongue?" Shuri asked with a chilling laugh, showing off a smile that was just a little too wide for her face, and a mouth that was filled with needle-like teeth.

Whatever the hell she had done to herself since I last saw her in my vision in Wakanda, now years ago, it has left her… less than human. And considerably _older_ somehow, since I'm looking at a full-grown woman in her mid-twenties rather than a young teenager.

" **Release her.** _ **Now**_ **."** My words come through gritted teeth, my size making them ring out across the burned down neighborhood that we were standing in, the result of my last clash with Belathauzer.

Other than a slight narrowing of her eyes, Shuri doesn't show any reaction to my threat, despite the fact that she has to look up nearly a hundred feet in order to lock gazes with me.

"Now, why would I do that? I have no intention to give up a… _meatshield_ as effective as this one." She says with a grin, hoisting Jessica a little higher, whatever dark powers she has made a pact with giving her the strength to overcome Jessica's own.

" **Because if you do not unhand her,** _ **right now**_ **, I will bathe the very starways in your blood. Every agony that humanity has collectively suffered under your attack on me, I will repay onto you a thousandfold!"** I roar at her, barely even thinking straight even more, my anger at her and my worry for Jessica and the child overriding my common sense.

I take one giant-sized step forwards, _Harpe_ raised high in order to scythe her down in a single move, but instead of backing away from me, Shuri merely straightens, showcasing a sick grin as she removes her hand from Jessica's face… and instead lets it hover over her belly.

The movement is enough to completely freeze Jessica and I in our motions, stilling to the point we may as well have been carved from stone.

" **Don't…** " I say, but my voice is a lot softer now, to the point that I'm almost sounding like a lion tamer warily approaching a particularly dangerous animal.

"Or _what_? What was it you said? You'll bathe the starways in my blood, right? See, the problem with that plan is, in order to get to _me_ , you'll have to go _through_ her. I know you. I know what kind of monster you are, Michael. I figured you out all the way back when I was still a foolish little girl. You are too selfish, too _cowardly_ to ever make such a sacrifice! All you do is take, and take and _take_ even more, but you'll _never_ be willing to face that pain yourself!" Shuri screams at me, tears coming from her void-colored eyes that carve smoking tracks through her cheeks, making her look like a WoW Banshee.

I desperately try to cool her anger. I know that I won't be entirely successful, but from the looks of her, eyes widened and chest heaving, she's _way_ over the edge right now. It makes her unpredictable. _Dangerous_. Considering how close she is to Jessica and my child… all I'm looking for here is to take the edge off her rage. Maybe then I can keep her from suddenly and randomly lashing out at her surroundings and instead keep enough sense that she'll focus all that anger on me instead.

" **I understand, Shuri. I do. I've hurt you. What I did that day, it gave you every right to hate me. So it should be** _ **me**_ **you should focus on. All these people, they have never harmed you. They never even knew about Wakanda in the first place! There was no need to go after** _ **them**_ **, it's** _ **me**_ **you want! Let the woman go! Harming her isn't going to make you feel better, but** _ **me**_ **? How often have you dreamt of this, I wonder? How many nights have you spent imagining, over and** _ **over**_ **again, how it would** _ **feel**_ **? How it would feel to stand over my corpse, to have avenged your mother, to know that things had been set** _ **right**_ **again? So face** _ **me**_ **! Here and now! All those dreams, all those desperate days and nights, you can make them come true** _ **rightnow**_ **! Fight** _ **me**_ **and let the woman go, she doesn't matter! It's** _ **me**_ **you want and I'm right here!"** I yell at her, backing away a bit and spreading my arms wide, inviting her to close the distance and take advantage of my lack of a guard.

For a few moments, I can see conflict in her eyes, as she looks up and down my form with a calculating and almost hungry expression. Her grip on the chain looped around Jessica's neck slackens somewhat, as she removes the hand that had been hovering over her belly, closing it into a fist instead.

"Shrink down to normal. Remove your helmet, scythe and shield. Your helmet and shield, throw them far away from here. I will not have those… Elder Gems anywhere near me."

Briefly, ice crashes down my spine as I try to understand how Shuri knows about the Infinity Stones, but I then I notice the way that her voice turned somewhat questioning when she mentioned the Stones and the way that her eyes are slightly unfocused as she flicks her gaze between my helmet and my shield, all the while holding her head a little sideways, a slight, confused furrow in her brow.

Spotting the Darkhold strapped securely to her waist with even more chains, I realize that _she_ probably doesn't know about the Infinity Stones. She's merely being whispered the answers by the Hellish book.

Radcliffe _did_ say in canon that it blasted the universes' deepest secrets straight into your mind: presumably, those secrets include the six primordial forces of the universe itself. I'm quickly shaken from my flash of insight as Shuri continues, the distant look in her eyes now gone and her voice a lot more alert now that she's no longer listening to the whispers of Hell.

"Approach. _Slowly_. I'm watching you with more than merely my eyes, Michael. _One_ move. You make _one_ wrong move, and this bitch will be dead before you even have a chance to blink. We clear?" she asks in a cool tone, but I can hear the suppressed excitement in her voice.

As much as I want to simply burst forwards and slice her in half, there are two things stopping me: firstly, I'm almost completely tapped out from that final attack against Belathauzer. I'm more tired than I can remember being in a _long_ time, I have barely any magical reserves left and my body aches all over, not to mention the damage I've done to my own armor. But more importantly, I know that I'm not fast enough to get to Shuri before she can kill Jessica.

I briefly contemplate contacting Sterns and Oliver. The sapient truck is probably fast enough to get close to Shuri before she can react, but even with his Tesseract-powered teleportation he's probably _not_ fast enough to free Jessica from Shuri's grasp and teleport back out again, _before_ Shuri counterattacks or harms Jessica and the baby. Sterns can definitely create a sniper-like weapon that can take Shuri's head off from dozens of miles away, but as smart as he is, even he needs time to slap something like that together, and Shuri might have some deadman switches on her, which again might risk Jessica and my child.

Besides, with her focus on me, I doubt I can contact either one of them without her noticing anyways and I have no intention to test how serious her threat was. Still, there's _one_ trick that I hope to pull of that I'm fairly certain Shuri won't be able to see coming.

So, without any real choice, I shrink back down to my regular size in flash, which startles Shuri, but thankfully she doesn't react beyond a tensing of her muscles. Slowly, I raise my right arm to the side, before I let go of my scythe, which falls to the still glowing ground with a heavy slam, its blade sinking deep into the molten stone and holding the weapon upright. I remove my shield from my forearm, holding it by the sides, before I twist my body and throw it far up and behind me like a frisbee, letting it disappear into a rapidly shrinking dot. Turning back to face Shuri, I _slowly_ raise my hands to my helmet, which I take off with a smooth movement. Looking down at it, I can only now see the damage Belathauzer has done to it when he tried to melt my face off with Hellfire from his throats: much of the outer layer has been slagged, the visor is full of cracks and is blackened and the plates that are supposed to slide over the Mind Stone are barely even hanging on to the helmet itself.

The Mind Stone doesn't show any sign of damage, of course.

With a frustrated sigh, I throw the helmet up and to the side, letting it sail over a remaining block of buildings that weren't brought down by my fight with Belathauzer, before I look back at Shuri again with a raised eyebrow. Seeing my look, she gives me one more once-over, before she gives a short jerk of her head. I approach her warily, my eyes gliding from the manic expression on Shuri's twisted face to the desperate one Jessica's wearing.

Her eyes are wide and locked with mine, and she's still struggling to get her fingers between the Hellish metal and her own skin, but she's making her movements as small as possible. Thankfully, her own durability and enhancements appear to have prevented her from suffering from a lack of oxygen, but even so, the blackened metal is clearly causing her a lot of discomfort.

"I'm sorry honey. I should _never_ have allowed you to fight in your condition." I say to her, getting only a small, but vehement shake in return, Jessica's message loud and clear to me even if she doesn't say a word.

"You couldn't have kept me away even if you tried."

"No talking!" Shuri bites out, giving a warning tug on the chain around Jessica's neck.

The move makes me halt my steps for just the briefest moment as my eyes explode with heat, my expression in such a rictus of fury that Shuri takes an unconscious step back before she recollects herself with a snarl, giving a harsher pull on Jessica's chain.

"Quit it with the light-show Michael! Remember: _one_ move."

At her words, I focus all of my willpower in fighting back the heat that's threatening to spill from my every pore, only achieving in dimming the glow that's coming from my eyes and veins with the greatest difficulty. I can feel that I'm not entirely successful, but considering our current situation, this is the best that Shuri's gonna get and she knows it.

Closing the remaining distance, I come to a stop at a distance of roughly fifteen feet away from where Shuri's sitting on her futuristic speeder. As close as I am, I can now clearly make out the Dormammu sign that has been carved into her forehead and the void-like coloring around her eyes. My guess based on her Ghost Rider form appears to be correct: instead of shallow, tattoo-like cuts in her flesh (like the Ancient One had and Kaecillius would have had in canon), Shuri's sign has been carved far deeper, _into_ the bone of her forehead, exposing the white of her skull through her ebony skin even now.

The wound still seems raw and is slightly bleeding, but Shuri doesn't even seem to acknowledge the horrific wound on her forehead, her eldritch eyes solely focused on me.

"I did what you asked, Shuri. Let her go: she isn't the one you want." I say, trying to keep my voice as level and calm as I can make it, but the rage is barely hidden underneath the surface and I know that Shuri picked up on it, even if she doesn't seem to care about it at all.

"Isn't she though? You took _my_ family away from me, Michael! My father! My mother! My brother couldn't even stand the _sight_ of me! He hates me! Because of what _you_ made me! You ruined _everything_! You _destroyed_ my family!" Shuri screams, her voice breaking as more tears burn marks through her cheeks with a painful hissing noise and the rising of smoke.

Taking a deep breath, I can see the black of Shuri's tiny pupil flash into a yellow ember, before flames start to eat their way from her skull through her skin outwards, her flesh breaking apart in a very disturbing way.

It's different from the transformations that I saw in the Nicholas Cage movies and from Robbie Reyes' version in the Agents of SHIELD show. While both of those had appeared painful, there had also been a sense of transition: something being replaced by something else.

Shuri's version though, seemed… _wrong_. As if the Spirit had to be _pulled_ from within her, fighting all the way. It was burning her as much as it was transforming her, an almost intentionally _violent_ manifestation in its host body. Despite having her flesh literally burned away to her very skeleton, even as Hellfire replaces what is destroyed, I can't take advantage of her transformation to dash in and get Jessica away from her.

While both Johnny Blaze and Robbie Reyes were somewhat out of the count for the duration of the transformation, Shuri simply kept looking straight at me, not blinking at first due to sheer focus and shortly afterwards due to not having any eyelids to blink with. Her eyes were the last of her body to be burnt away and within the split second that her sockets became empty I tensed my muscles, hoping that _this_ was my chance.

Before I could even move an inch, literal fire exploded from the empty sockets, and for the first time I was directly confronted with the gaze of the Ghost Rider. Again I noticed how _off_ Shuri's version was, with its fanged teeth and the mark of Dormammu carved in the bone in its forehead, the void-like texture extending from the empty sockets all the way down to cover the cheekbones.

"She's **your** family. That makes her **guilty** of what you have done to **mine**. And the guilty… will **burn**." The hollow voice of the Ghost Rider rings out to me, and Hellfire bursts from the skeletal hand that's holding Jessica's chain.

Time seems to slow down as I stare in horror as the Hellfire cascades down the blackened links of the chain, racing to Jessica's neck. I'm already moving before the second link has erupted into flame, the tarmac underneath me shattering under the force of my take-off, but I know that it's useless.

I'm too late.

Jessica's screams of agony ring out across the burnt out neighborhood and cuts me right to the bone, making me roar in rage as I close the remaining distance, sheer bloodlust overriding the little rational thought that I had left.

"Stay right there! Or she dies right here and now! Do _not_ fucking test me Michael!"

Shuri's words crash like ice into my veins. I almost disregard her words completely, intent on simply charging forwards and punching her head off her shoulders. I'm halted in my tracks when Shuri pulls Jessica in front of her, hiding behind her and using Jess as a meat-shield.

The pause is enough for me to take in the situation: the chain is burning Jessica's skin, but I can see how the links snake over each other, the chain coiling itself around her neck, Shuri's grinning skull taunting me from just behind Jess' shoulder. Two skeletal hands wrapped around both ends of the chain send a message that I _cannot_ afford to ignore.

One more step, and Jessica loses her head.

I have to act, _now_. Jessica's Amber Armor is failing against the magical properties of the Hellfire. The burns that are forming on her unbreakable skin are bad enough already, but if this goes on for much longer, then Jessica will die either way, decapitation or no.

I need an opening. Even if I hadn't thrown away my weapons, the way that Shuri was keeping Jessica between me and her would've still made them useless. And I _wasn't_ going to slam a scythe through Jessica in hopes of hitting Shuri.

Thankfully, I had an idea how to create that opening, no matter how brief it would be.

It would just have to be enough.

"Stop! _Please_ stop! _I'm_ guilty, you said it yourself! She didn't even _know_ me back then! She _never_ knew, I never told her! I never told _anyone_! _I'm_ guilty, burn _me_!" I roar at Shuri, but more importantly, at the Spirit of Vengeance within her.

As I had suspected (or rather, _hoped_ for), the Spirit is responsive to my plea as Shuri's flaming skull turns towards me, it's burning eye sockets increasing in intensity. Unfortunately, my other suspicion proves to be correct as well, and I get confirmation that Dormammu's mark gives Shuri _some_ measure of control over the Ghost Rider, as the Mark burns with a light that falls outside of the spectrum that humans can comprehend, and Shuri shakes her flaming skull with an annoyed growl.

"You stupid… **Obey**!" she howls out, but it's directed at the spirit inside of her, and that gives me enough time to make a desperate move.

During the time that we had been talking, my regeneration had been working overtime to repair the sheer amount of abuse that I had put my body through ever since I made it back to Earth. My armor was still damaged until I could take it back to the Forges in Othrys and my magical reserves would take more time to replenish, but at least my body was approaching fighting shape again.

Which meant that, the very moment that Shuri wrested the Ghost Rider under her control again _,_ there was a brief window of no more than a second in which her grip on the chain slackened. I shot forwards at speeds rivaling that of bullets and the like. In the blink of an eye, I had crossed the distance between us, landing on Shuri's speeder with enough force that the metal of the flying bike warped underneath my armored boots. Her empty, burning gaze snapped towards me the moment I came to a halt, but I was still faster to react than her, my hands already closing around the chain halfway between Shuri's hands and Jessica's neck.

Both were glowing white-gold with Extremis heat and my chi, though I roared in pain as they closed around Hellfire-covered links, which burnt my hands really badly, though still not on the same level as Belathauzer's dagger had done (which I still felt even now).

Shuri immediately yanked on the chain, trying to follow up on her earlier threat, but because of my grip on it, the links from my hands to Jess' neck remained slack (though worriedly enough they were still on fire). With a frustrated scream of sheer rage, Shuri leaped towards me, one skeletal clawed hand reaching towards my face as she almost flew off her seat, her jaw opened unnaturally wide and flame spilling from between her needle-like teeth like the foaming of a rabid animal.

She's too late.

In a single move, I stretch out my whole body, striking out with both legs which sink even further into the plating of her speeder, while I simultaneously rip my hands to the sides, breaking Jessica's chain, _finally_ extinguishing the flames. For a single moment, we hang there in the sky, before reality kicked in again and Shuri was blasted away from me as Jessica fell to the molten concrete.

Before I could move to help her get that damned chain off of her, the broken links in my left hand suddenly shot out and wrapped themselves around me all the way op to my elbow, almost like a demonic snake. I tried to brace myself, but between my exhaustion and the sudden attack, I was too late and Shuri reeled me in close to her, while simultaneously madly accelerating her speeder.

It took less than a second before we closed the distance between us, and before I could do more than open my eyes, I saw two long blades suddenly extend from the narrow nose of the flaming, skull-covered speeder.

"Oh."

Pain exploded in my abdomen as their momentum caused the twin blades to pierce my armor and embed themselves deep into my belly, their tips emerging from my back. Some clinical part of my mind noted that the speeder wasn't made out of regular Earth material, since even the sharpest steel blades would've simply snapped on my armor or my skin. The rest of me was more concerned with the fact that Shuri hadn't let up on the throttle, ramming both of us into the shattered street below.

The crash caused the ground to crater around my body as I gasped for breath. The impact totaled the already beaten up speeder which had barely survived its head-on collision with me, and Shuri was thrown to the ground next to me with a painful smack and the clear sound of snapping bones. However, as I tried to lift the large piece of speeder-turned-scrapmetal off my battered body _without_ further aggravating the supersharp blades currently turning my guts into salsa, I could spot her working herself to her elbows from the corner of my eye.

Both her legs had been utterly mangled and one of her arms was bending the wrong way, but Shuri didn't really seem to care all that much about her current state, her burning sockets solely focused on me. She crawled towards me with a disturbing speed, made all the more horrifying by her widely grinning skull, the jaw crooked and hanging open as it was knocked loose from the impact, her legs and broken arm dragging behind her, accompanied by the sound of bone resetting itself ringing out across the burning battlefield.

I tried to move away, but the speeder on top of me (and the blades _inside_ of me) prevented me from doing more than crawl a few inches, before a cackling Shuri crashed into me, sending a new wave of agony from my abdomen to the rest of my body. Skeletal, clawed fingers scrabbled at my face, scratching my durable skin as Shuri tried to find purchase with her still working hand. She managed to wrap her hand around my jaw, and literal damned strength forced me to look up at her burning skull, the mark of Dormammu seeming to glow ever brighter.

Unfortunately, I can't count on the Ghost Rider to distract Shuri this time. While it likely hated her for chaining it, for now they were on the same line: exacting Shuri's vengeance on me.

And considering that I _was_ in fact guilty, the Spirit of Vengeance was probably just fine with seeing me burnt to ashes.

"It took the forces of Hell and calling upon Dormammu himself… It took becoming the Ghost Rider… All of this pain and death… all of it, just to get you where you are now. Broken. Beaten. **Mine**. No more running away, no more hiding behind your allies Michael: it's time you pay for what you did to me. Time for you to face your evil and be **consumed** by it. Michael…" Shuri trailed off into a whisper, lowering her skull until we were only inches apart.

"… **look into my eyes.** "

This was the moment that I had been hoping/waiting for. My final trick that Shuri wouldn't see coming. She had me remove my weapon, shield and helmet and made me throw the latter two far away, scared by their power. If my suspicions were true and she was listening to the whispers of the Darkhold, then she probably attributed my feat of telekinesis in the Hell-spawning cavern (when I severed her chain by letting my scythe fly up behind me) to the powers of my helmet.

What I had been counting on (and hoping for) was that she didn't realize that I had developed telekinetic abilities of my own, and that if she _did,_ she didn't realize _one_ crucial aspect about my armaments: they were the only objects in the universe of that size and weight that I could manipulate effortlessly.

Saturated with my chi and forged by a blacksmith, a wizard, an Asgardian and a dinosaur, all of my weapons and armor responded to even the lightest touch of my mind, even from over a mile away. So, while I _had_ thrown the shield and helmet away per her orders, I have been recalling them with my mind ever since, until they were hovering just out of sight behind the mounds of rubble surrounding us.

The very moment that Shuri said those infamous words to me, I had tugged on my helmet with all of my mental might, sending it crashing through the burnt out remains of what was once an apartment building, before I had called down the power of the sun to destroy a Dark God.

Which meant that, right as dark energies began to build in Shuri's eye sockets, a golden helm _slammed_ through the surrounding rubble and crashed onto my head. Fire spilled from Shuri's eyes in an instant, but in a flash was met by the yellow energy of my Mind Stone…

… and the world fades away into darkness.

* * *

It's like someone's playing a movie, but everything's fast forward, shot in darkness and wholly covered in fire. Actually, it's less like a movie and more like the Mirror that Galadriel shows Frodo. It's constantly shifting, hurtling down one path and then abruptly switching to another track entirely for seemingly no reason whatsoever.

 _"-ichael! Michael talk to me!"_

 _"-et out! Get out! OUT!"_

 _"-at's going on?!"_

 _"Michael!"_

And everything is on fire, did I mention that part already?

 _"- need to break it!"_

 _"-are linked, the damage-"_

 _"-out! Get out! GET OUT!"_

 _"MICHAEL!"_

I'm reminded of my episode when I first wore the Mind Stone, just a literals stream of memory and thought, slamming into me and dragging me along. Except now the river is on fire (I'm starting to see a theme here).

" _-Hell with this!"_

 _"- need to find a way-"_

 _"-out! Out! OUT!"_

 _"MICHAEL!"_

The memories are from my perspective, as if I've lived them before, and am simply remembering them all. But I'm pretty sure that I've never talked about the origins of Ghengis Khan with the Mandarin, or faced Dormmamu directly in his own realm.

 _"-OUT!"_

 _"MICHAEL!"_

Just what the hell is going on? The last thing that I can remember is Shuri about to use the Penance Stare on my ass, while I intended to blast her head clean off with my Mind Stone. Clearly, _something_ had backfired, considering I didn't feel as if my soul was currently being judged by a Spirit of Vengeance, but these memories _definitely_ ain't mine.

 _"MICHAEL! WAKE UP!"_

 _"GET OUT!"_

 _"I'm almost done, just give me a minute!"_

 _"Where the hell is the Ancient One?!"  
_

I try to brace myself against the flood of memories that try to drag me under, fighting for control. I'm both drowning and set on fire at the same time, but I grit my teeth and fight against the current that's tearing at my skin. I force myself to look at each memory as it's played out in front of me, and slowly a coherent picture forms as I puzzle the shattered fragments back together.

 _"It's been almost half a minute-!"_

 _"-are still connected!"_

 _"Can't you-"_

 _"Such dark magics-"_

 _"GET OUT!"_

 _"MICHAEL!"  
_

This... this is Shuri's rise to power. A dark mirror to my own. Where I started working with the Government, Shuri managed to get the support of terrorists and criminals. Where I used science to upgrade my body, she turned to mysticism. Where I tried to rage against the God I met in another Plane, she submitted herself completely (though it's not like she had much choice. One does not say "no" to the likes of Dormammu without some _very_ powerful artifacts on your side). Where I grew softer because of the friendships that I made and the family that I was building, Shuri kept sinking in further and further into her own Vengeance (literally, apparently), alienating the last family that she had left.

The more the picture comes together, the tighter the river of fiery memories swirls around me, trapping me in the eye of mental hurricane. The deeper I look into Shuri's memories, the more desperate my psychedelic surroundings start to feel. Someone doesn't want me looking at the skeletons in their closet.

Tough luck bitch.

This is the _least_ of your worries after threatening _my family_.

Reaching out with both hands and letting out a roar, I plunge deeper into the swirling column of memory, flashes of locations and conversations pressing themselves deeper into my mind's eye. I can see... _something_ emerge from the swirling memories and fire. An ethereal figure slowly stalks towards me, made of flames and seemingly unbothered by the hurricane swallowing us both.

The Spirit of Vengeance keeps closing in on me, I can _feel_ it's anticipation as it leans forward, arms spread wide and gaping maw pulled up into a grin.

Yet out of nowhere, a different energy intrudes on this mental hellscape. It's large and forceful, unyielding against the cyclone of memories. It constricts the forces around me, but leaves me alone for some reason.

And then the entire world _heaves_ and the faint screams that I've kept hearing all this time suddenly thunder in my ears.

* * *

"MICHAEL!"

Jessica's shout makes me shoot upwards, which I quickly regret with a wince of pain. Looking down, I can see that someone has cut away the scrapped remains of Shuri's speeder, but the two blades are still sticking out of my abdomen.

Fighting through the pain, I try to focus on my surroundings. I'm still lying where Shuri had crashed us into the ground, and from what I can tell, barely any time has passed since the whole... mind-whammy thingie.

I can spot Jessica to my left, holding my head in her hands as she looks at me with a worried expression. My eyes immediately drop down to her neck and I can feel my heart plummet as I take in the burn scars that circle her throat. My hand slowly comes up, one large thumb gently caressing the unmarked skin right underneath where the flesh is gnarled and twisted, my words failing me.

I look back up into Jessica's eyes as her small hand closes around mine. She gives me a shaky smile, her eyes watery as we simply stare at each other.

"Jess... I-"

"It's alright Michael. I'll be fine." she cuts me off, her voice raspy and hoarse and we both know that she's lying.

Even her regeneration can't simply heal a wound inflicted by the literal flames of Hell. At least the wounds are only skin deep, considering that it didn't seem to hinder her speech, meaning the underlying flesh is left intact.

It isn't much, considering the circumstances, but at the very least we can be grateful for that. So I answer her smile, before I focus back on my surroundings. Sterns is to my right, shutting of a torch and retracting it into his gauntlet, while cut apart remains of Shuri's Hell-speeder are strewn around him.

His expression is murderous, his lips pressed into a thin white line and angry tears in his eyes. Looking past him, I can see why: Oliver is back in his truck form, just sitting there on the melted tarmac, completely shut down.

"Sterns? What happened?" I manage to say, desperate to focus on anything else but Jessica's injuries, trying to ignore the little voice at the back of my mind that kept on insisting that it was all my fault.

Sterns is quick to answer, his voice curt and clipped as he keeps working on the blades that are currently forming two railings for my spine to hold onto.

"We found you lying here with the Ghost Rider hanging over you. There was a beam, connecting your heads, made of fire and yellow lights. Jess was there, but she wasn't sure if kicking Shuri away would hurt you. She managed to get a hold of me and Oliver, and I started working on getting that bike off of you. The blades are gonna be a hell of a lot trickier to remove, but I'm confident that you'll live. We were here for nearly a minute before the Ancient One came through a portal. From what I understand, she could feel the massive energies between the two of you while you did… whatever the hell that was. Don't know what happened between you and the Rider, but both of you were screaming and she kept yelling 'get out!'." Sterns says in hurried tone as deploys of quickly hardening foam around the two massive wounds in my stomach.

"How did you get me out?" I ask, and Jessica is the one who answers, each raspy breath sending a lance of guilt through my chest.

"The Ancient One summoned a whip and literally lassoed the Ghost Rider, pulled her off you and sent her flying through a building. Or what was left of it anyways. They're fighting now. Oliver was helping, but she took some sort of device from her belt and set off an EMP of some kind and he just… shut down."

I let out a growl at that, and try to work myself to my feet, but Jessica is pushing me down.

"You can't fight right now. Wait until Sterns gets the blades out, then let yourself heal. You're not gonna save the day in this condition." She says firmly, her slim hands keeping a firm hold of my shoulders.

"The Ancient One… needs help." I manage to growl out, seeing Sterns and Jess exchange a worried look at that, though Sterns doesn't stop his work on treating my impalement.

"I'm sure she'll be fine." Jessica tries to assure me.

Which is, of course, when a Hell portal opens up not ten feet away from us, a frothing Ghost Rider sprinting through it with a crazed howl and fire spilling from its open maw.

Fuck you, Murphey, and fuck your stupid Law.

The Ancient One certainly has done a number of Shuri's demonic form, judging by the myriad of new cuts in her tactical clothing and the fact that there's a magical spear sticking out of her chest.

Not that the Ghost Rider seems to care. The broken bones have mostly healed, or at least to the point that Shuri's capable of making a mad dash towards me, a screech coming from her lipless maw, mad fire bursting from empty eye-sockets.

Seems that having her Penance Stare backfire on her after being met by the energies of the Mind Stone (which apparently sent me on a trip down _her_ memory lane) has eroded what little sanity and stability she had left.

Seeing her throw herself at me like some rabid animal, I tense my muscles, baring my teeth at her as I try to meet her attack.

Jessica's way ahead of me though, bursting from where she was sitting next to me in a shower of broken concrete, appearing as a blur before she _slams_ into Shuri, sending the insane Ghost Rider flying down the street. Considering her bared teeth and flaming eyes, Jessica's _pissed_ and more than happy for the opportunity for some well-deserved payback.

Shuri digs a deep furrow in the burnt tarmac, but comes to a stop by slamming her claws into it, leaving deep grooves as she brings herself to a halt. She doesn't pause to assess the situation though, barely even acknowledging the hit form Jessica, instead immediately summoning another portal and jumping through, emerging several feet above me.

Again, Jessica is faster on the uptake than either Sterns or me, flying in and tackling Shuri in midair, flying her _into_ a burnt out building with an enormous crash. Almost immediately following that, I can hear a resounding impact come from within the ruined building, followed quickly by several subsequent crashes, before with the final crash I can Shuri being launched straight out of the roof of the building, courtesy of what's probably the mother of all uppercuts delivered by Jessica.

For a moment, Shuri's flying through the air, before she disappears into yet _another_ portal, but this time I'm expecting her. Without any real tactic or reasoning, Shuri's solely focused on getting to me and ripping me to shreds, ignoring everything (and _everyone_ ) else. So, when a portal opens up a few feet behind me and she comes raging through again, Sterns and I are ready.

He immediately lobs a disc with a worryingly large amount of glowing parts in it, while I quickly recall my shield, holding it in front of us, the Power Stone shining brightly, almost as if in anticipation.

With a cheery beep, the grenade detonates with tremendous force, causing a purple glow to burst from my shield and surround me and Sterns in a perfect force-field bubble in response, while Shuri is sent flying dozens of feet away, her flames almost extinguished and her clothes smoking.

"A grenade? Really? A bit... mundane." I ask with an aside glance at Sterns, who's looking at Shuri's still form with a closed off expression.

"Not just _any_ grenade. Kree-derived tech. Call it the Splinter-bomb, based off Whitehall's Diviner-research. Disintegrates the body on an atomic level." He says with an ice-cold tone that makes the skin of my scalp crawl.

Right. Do _not_ fuck with Oliver.

 _Ever_.

As we're watching Shuri, who's struggling to get back to her feet again, we can see the Splinter-bomb do its work, parts of Shuri's body turning to a stone-like substance.

"It's working." Sterns says with a dark satisfaction, but I'm not so sure.

"Aren't they supposed to… you know… work a lot faster?"

Sterns opens his mouth to answer, but that's when Shuri's empty sockets suddenly twist in my direction, the fire within them nearly exploding with rage. Most of her extremities are already covered in the stuff, as is the side of her skull.

Somehow, I get the feeling this isn't enough.

"Get down!" I roar, pushing Sterns down behind my shield, as Shuri tilts back her skull and lets out the loudest scream I have ever heard in my life.

Hellfire _explodes_ from her body as the mark of Dormammu starts glowing bright enough to appear like there's an inverted sun nestled on Shuri's forehead, a swirling vortex of Demonic and Dark powers surrounding her and ripping the stone away, leaving shadowy light and burning Hellfire in their place.

Still, while I expected Shuri to immediately rush into another mindless attack, staving off her own atomic disintegration like that apparently took _a_ _lot_ out of her, as she almost immediately falls to her knees once the last of the stone has gone.

Her flames are significantly smaller now, to the point that her skull is more smoldering than aflame, and while Dormammu's mark barely dims its unholy light, I can see glowing cracks spreading from where the mark is carved into the bone.

Hosting such enormously powerful forces in your body will definitely take its toll: I should know.

Shuri looks up at me, part of her skull missing, cracks spreading from the mark in her forehead and her Hellfire clearly running on empty. Still, I know that this isn't the end.

Not by a long shot.

She takes a deep, gasping breath as she slowly straightens, and I do so as well, trying my very best to ignore the two carved blades that have gone straight through my stomach and are now slightly poking out of my back, my armor mangled and my helmet slagged.

We make for a sorry pair, but the thought of throwing in the towel never even crosses our minds.

Even as we have our stand-off, our bodies are repairing themselves at an impossible rate. The inverted light from Dormammu's mark is drawn back into the carved grooves of Shuri's skull, acting like some sort of fuel, since the more she draws in, the brighter the flames become, quickly reaching their previous intensity. Shuri's body remains shattered and broken, but as long as the Spirit has enough power left in the tank, it's host will _never_ stay down.

And with Dormammu filling up said tank... well, it's just bad news for everyone.

My own regeneration is nothing to scoff at either though. The majority of my healing was based off Extremis, which had allowed Killian to regenerate entire limbs in a matter of _seconds_.

Combined with the other enhancements I had added to my body, and my regeneration was _far_ superior to what he had had.

With a growl, I grab the shorn off edges of the blades still lodged in my gut and in a single smooth movement, I pull them out of my body. The process is excruciating, but I simply grit my teeth and push on, and after a few moments, the tips of the curved blades has finally left my mangled flesh. With a disdainful snort, I let the glowing blades fall to the ground, my superheated blood causing the tarmac to burn where they land.

Staring straight into Shuri's burning eyes, I hold out my arm to the side, palm splayed wide open. After a few seconds, a whistling sound can be heard, before my scythe _slams_ into my hand, it's blade gleaming in the afternoon sun, it's edge almost appearing _hungry_.

As my skin nits back together, I spit out a glob of blood to the side, ignoring the hiss it makes as it burns its way through the shattered stone, twirling _Harpe_ a few times in my hand, before falling into a combat stance.

"Bring it, bitch."

In response, Shuri tilts back her skull, the glow of her mark increasing in non-brightness, before it's sucked inwards, the void around her empty sockets enlarging until they encompass most of her face, almost reaching her chin. And then the light is visible pulled in and Shuri's flames roar to even greater heights, its edges tinted with colors that I cannot fully comprehend and can't quite remember each time I close my eyes.

It's somewhat similar to the effect that happens whenever I augment my flames with my Chi, but... _darker_.

I can almost _see_ how Dormammu's energy travels through Shuri's skeletal body, before she clenches her fist, raising it high above her head, before swinging it down, a fiery whip of dark energy bursting forth and scoring a deep groove in the molten tarmac.

As Shuri straightens, I can see that the cracks in her skull have spread further from Dormammu's mark in her forehead. It's clear that the more she pulls on the Dark Dimension to keep the Spirit of Vengeance going, the greater the strain on whatever remains of _her_.

It seems that she's willing to make that sacrifice if it means she can kill me.

Depending on how long this fight will keep on dragging out, she just might, even if it completely destroys the remains of her body and soul in the process.

And then I can't ponder any further, because Shuri attacks, swinging her burning whip forwards at speeds that would be impossible to even see for most people.

I'm not most people.

With a speed that seems impossible with my size, I raise my shield to the side, easily catching the flaming construct of dark energy on the force-field that automatically snaps out from the Power Gem, deflecting the blow with ease. Because of the properties of the Power Stone, there's barely any feedback to me.

Had I tried the same move _before_ I went to space, then sheer momentum would've still staggered me, if not sent me flying regardless.

Now however, I immediately counterattack, sending a thick beam of pure mental energy from my forehead lancing at Shuri, who's still reeling in her whip for a follow-up attack. As the screaming energy beam races towards her, she roars in defiance, before whipping her torso down and to the side, almost definitely damaging her spine considering the angles and forces involved.

The beam of the Mind Stone just barely misses her, just barely grazing her shoulder, before it continues into the mountain of rubble behind her, throwing up a fountain of gravel and rubble.

Shuri whips back her torso, arm raised high to leash out with her whip again, only to just now see the scythe that I had sent flying right in the wake of the blindingly bright energy beam. The spinning blade slams into her, cutting clean through her left shoulder as if it isn't even there before careening further.

The shoulder and arm slide off Shuri's mangled torso, falling to the ground as the Ghost Rider stands rooted to the ground for the briefest of moments out of sheer shock. As it falls however, the removed limb seems to burn up completely, the blackened bone crumbling away and completely shattering into dust upon impact with the molten tarmac.

Shuri has barely enough time to completely comprehend the sudden attack, before a curved blade suddenly emerges from her chest.

 _'Oh yeah! How does it feel!?'  
_  
Keeping up my mental pull on my scythe, Shuri's lifted off her feet as _Harpe_ carries her towards me at startling speeds. Right as she's mere feet in front of me, I raise my shield in a backspin, clotheslining her with Power Gem. The resulting blast slams her away from me, digging an enormous trench through the street, coming to a stop in a crater that's several feet deep.

 _Harpe_ had been knocked clear due to the force of the blow, and I recall it to my hand again, ready to attack once more. For a moment, I think that the last blow had finally been enough to put Shuri down, but right as I think that, I can feel a... _wrongness_ in the air.

I imagine this is what it would feel like to stand next to a Dementor.

There's a voiceless whisper on the wind, unheard words softly whispering on an unseen current.

arise my herald... arise once more...

Shuri's flames rise once again in concert with the brightness of the Mark of Dormammu, enveloping her body in a dark inferno. As she rises again (not by working herself back to her feet, but by literally floating upright, like Dracula waking up from his coffin or something), I can see vast glowing cracks spreading across the battered remains of her skull, nearly shattering it into a hundred little pieces.

As she fully straightens, flame and dark energy quickly start swirling around her left shoulder, before with a sudden violent heave, a new arm shoots from the socket. It's a similar trick to what Belathauzer had managed to pull off during our fight. The limb isn't flesh and blood (or in this case, bone), instead a construct of highly condensed demonic and Dark energies.

No matter how much I cut her, as long as the Spirit of Vengeance is being fueled by energy from Dormammu, it can still keep calling on more Hellfire in order to patch up its host, even if said host is literally coming apart at the seams.

Meanwhile, I'm starting to tire. Shuri had chosen her allies well. While Belathauzer hadn't managed to inflict massive amounts of damage to me, I had been forced to give it my _everything_ to kill him in a way that wouldn't raze all of New York right down to the bedrock. And that stab wound in the side of my chest was _still_ hurting like a bitch!

I was running on fumes, and the more damage my body took, the less effective I would be. Clearly my opponent had no such issues holding her back.

As I was considering my situation, Shuri flexed her new arm a few times, before her empty sockets turned back towards me. The void marring her skeletal face seemed to almost burn with power, and somehow, that fanged-filled maw managed to turn up into an even larger sinister grin.

I grip my weapons tighter as I get her message loud and clear: it's time for round two.

"This... is the end!" she screams at me.

However, right after Shuri pushes off, arms spread wide and clawed fingers splayed out, Jessica drops down from the sky right behind her, cratering the ground underneath even further as she lashes out, managing the place Shuri in a chokehold, brutally halting her rushed advance.

"Now!" Jessica roars, and for a moment I think she's talking to me, until a wizarding portal slams into existence in front of them. The Ancient One exits at a dead run, her clothing singed and her left arm dangling uselessly at her side, a determined expression on her face, made all the more fearsome by the large burns covering the entire left side, exposing the muscles and sinews underneath.

My eyes widen when I realize what their plan is, but even as I push off, roaring "DON'T!" at the top of my lungs, I know that I'm too late.

Sliding to a stop less than a foot away from the struggling Shuri, the Ancient One brings in her working right arm close and low to her torso, before she slams it forwards with a yell…

… pushing the Spirit of Vengeance straight out of Shuri…

… and into Jessica.

As Hellfire covers her and starts sinking into her, Shuri's flesh and blood form is restored, missing large patches of skin and muscles as she falls to her knees with a chocked off gasp. Her artificial arm falls apart in a mass of glowing shadows, exposing the horrific (and completely smooth) cut where her shoulder used to be.

Not that I even remotely care about her right now, my horrified eyes fixed on Jessica's burning form.

One small mercy is that she's not screaming at least, but she's gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut in clear pain… right before she's completely covered in fire.

"JESSICA!" I roar, bursting forwards, but the Ancient One holds up her arm to stop me from getting any closer.

"You! **What did you do**?!" I round on her, my eyes and veins glowing with my rage, but the Ancient One doesn't even look at me, instead staring at the pillar of Hellfire in front of us.

"I do not know if this will work or not. Be prepared for anything, but do _not_ act rashly. Interfere now… and we may lose her... _forever_."

I nearly take her head off before I manage to control myself, turning to look at Jessica's burning form with a desperate gaze, trying to see anything through the roiling Hellfire that covers her entirely.

After nearly a full minute, the Hellfire is suddenly… sucked inwards, sinking deep into Jessica's body until only her hands and head are covered in flame. Her hands are skeletal, and her head has become a skull, but the corona of flame surrounding it is larger than I have ever seen on a Ghost Rider, almost appearing like hair that's floating underwater.

"Jess?" I try hesitantly, but the Ghost Rider doesn't look at me, its head instead turning down… at where Shuri's desperately clinging to life, bleeding out on the ground.

Besides her missing arm, she's missing large patches of skin and flesh where Stern's Splinter-Bomb nearly de-atomized her, including the right side of her head. Glowing cracks spear through the flesh surrounding the Mark in her forehead, spilling dark blood. With those types of injuries, most humans would've died already. Shuri isn't really human anymore though, as is made clear when we can clearly see tendrils made of multicolored lights within a spectrum that exists outside of reality can be seen form the large gaping wound in the side of her head... and the tendrils start reaching out and weaving back together.

With a single swing of its arm, the new Ghost Rider summons a whip made of fire and swings it at the prone young woman, effortlessly reeling her mangled form in, catching her by the throat with one skeletal hand and reeling her in close.

"What was it you said?" the hollow voice comes from the open jaw of the Ghost Rider, sending a chill down my spine as I'm not sure if I'm still looking at my Jessica… or something else entirely.

"Ahh… yes, I remember now." The skull says, its grin somehow appearing to grow even wider, Shuri letting out a gurgling whimper as she weakly struggles against its grip.

" **Look into my eyes. Bitch.** "

And with that, the empty sockets of Jessica's skull explode with Hellfire, as a burning light comes from Shuri's eyes, which keeps growing brighter and brighter, while Shuri's agonized screams continue to increase. After a few moments, her eyes catch fire as her screams reach a fever pitch, and I can spot Sterns from the corner of my eye as he quickly turns away with a queasy expression on his face.

Jessica doesn't let up on the Penance Stare though, the flames surrounding her skull growing to match the twin infernos that are blazing from Shuri's mangled eyes. For a few more moments, where Shuri keeps twitching and screaming, flames keep bursting from her void-colored sockets…

… until it's suddenly all over. Shuri's screams die out, her twitches stop, the fire lessens and Jessica unceremoniously tosses the woman's corpse to the ground with a low growl. Twin trails of smoke come from the two gaping holes where Shuri's eyes once were as her body lies motionless on the torn up concrete ground.

The end of Shuri of the Golden Tribe.

At least, that's what I think until the corpse twitches. The glow from Dromammu's mark hasn't dimmed in the slightest, I quickly notice. In fact, it's quickly growing even brighter, before with a shattering sound, the cracks from Shuri's forehead lance even further, slashing down across her torso and even further down towards her legs.

Again I feel that chilling cold coming from everywhere and nowhere, but this time the sound is definitely real, instead of some eerie whispers from thin air.

They come from Shuri's mouth.

"Impressive... But ultimately... useless... you will _never_ defeat me... Hyperion."

Shuri's corpse gives a mocking laugh, before her head turns towards me with jerking movements. I'm standing slightly behind her though, so she can't turn it far enough to face me... or so I think right up to when Shuri simply keeps turning her head even further, until her chin is resting above her shoulder blade.

Her eyes are burnt from her head, and Shuri's definitely dead, but somehow her lips still peel back in a mockery of a smile.

"My rise... is inevitable..."

"The fuck it is!" I roar, slamming down the blade of _Harpe_ straight in the middle of the Mark.

An unholy scream rings out as Shuri's corpse stiffens, a swirling vortex of light erupting from the cut in the Mark. The energy keeps increasing, trying to push the blade out of Shuri's skull, but with a roar of effort and sheer rage, I push the enhanced blade even further, before the sound of shattering glass booms out across the battlefield.

And just like that, the dark energy has left Shuri's body completely, leaving an ordinary (if unusually battered) human corpse in its wake.

"To think he has such power... that not even death stops his Chosen..." the Ancient One softly murmurs.

I barely even pay attention to her, since I have _much_ more important matters on my mind right now as I warily approach the motionless Ghost Rider, whose staring at the dead Shuri at her feet.

"Jessica? Babe? You okay in there?"

For a moment, the flaming skeleton doesn't react to my questions and I fear the worst. Then, she gives a slow nod before turning to look at me. I try to spot something of Jessica in that burning gaze, but other than the same leather trenchcoat and ripped jeans and shirt underneath, there's nothing that shows me I'm looking at Jessica.

Still, when her jaw drops low and she starts speaking to me, I can't help but let out an explosive laugh of relief, despite the situation.

"It's me, Michael."

Her next words vanish my relief like snow before the sun.

"I'm not alone. It's pressing in ony my thoughts. It wants to take over. It has a job. **I** have a job. And… I need… transportation?" Jessica slowly says, as if the mere act of speaking is an enormous battle of the mind and will.

What she says next completely took me by surprise though.

"Where's Susan?"

* * *

 **AN:** Oof! I originally intended to wrap up the _whole_ Invasion Arc in this single chapter. When Michael and Shuri mind-whammied each other, I wanted to maybe spend _five_ lines on that part. Just a simple Michael POV: "I saw Shuri get Nightshade, team-up with the Mandarin (it's canon that he's descended from Genghis Khan btw), through him use/become the Black Sky of the Hand, which brings her into contact with Dormammu, who tells her to take the Ghost Rider, use it to track down the Darkhold and use it to open a portal to Hell, which would weaken the Sanctums and Earth's defenders, after which Kamar-Taj can be breached and a portal to the Dark Dimensions be opened. Oh, and get the order to kill me in the meantime by using two armies and a Dark God as a mere fucking diversion". Instead, we're almost at 17k… and the Invasion is still not finished! Aarrghh! Why can't my characters fucking listen to me for once and stick to the goddamn script! Whatever, I'm out. Finals are next week, I've got a lot of administrative and bureaucratic bullshit to get through in preparation for next year and I'm bone-tired right now. I hope that you guys at least enjoyed the explanation from how Shuri went from Nobody to Nightmare in only a year. We'll get to your regularly scheduled murder and mayhem in the next chapter. Cheers!

 **AN2:** So, massive Edit here. I took out all of Shuri's flashbacks, raised the stakes by having Jessica be hurt and expanded on the end fight more, trying to show why the Ancient One thought that making Jessica the new Ghost Rider was necessary. For those of you who are sad to see Shuri's Road to Darkness go (if you are, you are in a very small minority), they can still be read over on Spacebattles, where I've chopped them up into neat little after credits scenes and slapped them onto earlier chapters. I would have done the same here, but the editing mode of is just too unwieldy for that. Yeah, anyways, let me know what you think of the changes. Cheers!

 **Fun Fact:** The Penance Stare doesn't work on beings with more than two eyes. Amongst beings of the two-eyes variety that the Stare hasn't worked on either are: Venom, Deadpool and the Hulk. It also doesn't work on the Punisher and in his case, it's explicitly stated it's because he feels absolutely zero remorse for anyone he has killed. A future version of the Punisher ended up becoming the Ghost Rider himself, as well as a Herald of Galactus, turning into the Cosmic Ghost Rider. The other notable moment that the Ghost Rider was shared with another power was when the Red Hulk fused with Venom and then became the new host for the Spirit of Vengeance. It was pretty badass (though sadly shortlived).

 _Special shout-out to all of my amazing patrons! Thank you for your support, IronmanMarkIV, Shaman95, justlovereadin, Daniel Dorfman, DavidJP, CJ Elsen, Sam, Carn Krauss, ReaperScythe, Thordur Hrafn, Kyle Reese, Khan, RLStrained, Vu, Roman Krupkin. Thanks again, you guys are amazing!_


	47. To Hell and Back - Part III

_**To Hell and Back Part III**_

* * *

"I don't care, just get it out of her! NOW!"

"Michael, I have told you before: we simply do not know enough in order to do so safely. Given her pregnancy-"

"Maybe you should've thought of that, oh I don't know, _before_ you shoved a fucking demonic spirit into her!"

"I understand your anger-"

"You think I'm angry?! You think _this_ is angry?! I'm not angry: I'M OUT OF MY GODDAMN MIND HERE!"

"Michael-"

"SO YOU FIX _HER_ , OR **I BREAK** _ **YOU**_ **!** "

The Ancient One's thin lips press together to form an even thinner line as she stares at me from several feet away with a severe expression on her torn-up face. We were originally standing almost chest to chest when this argument started, but the longer it went on, the angrier I became and the more heat I started giving off, forcing the sorcerer to quickly back away.

"Michael. I _swear_ to you: I'll do everything in my power to make sure Jessica _and_ your child will come out of this unscathed. Even if it means taking the Spirit into myself, then I'll do so. But I _refuse_ to threaten their lives by acting too hastily! Now, you can continue to direct your fear and anger at me, _or_ you can step aside and let me examine her so I can start working on a solution!"

For a moment, we simply stare at each other, before with a frustrated growl I turn away from her, trying to fight down my rage, allowing the Ancient One to pass. I keep an eye on her as she hurries to where Jess is still standing in the same place as before. Sterns is there as well, several scanners extending from his suit and (mechanical) arms as he circles the flaming form of the Ghost Rider.

His utterly confused expression doesn't really help the knot that's sitting in my stomach.

Picking up the familiar whine of repulsors I take my eyes off them right as the Ancient One calls up a magical array to cover her remaining functional arm. Turning around, I see Tony Stark flying towards me, his iconic armor definitely worse for wear.

As he lands heavily a few feet away from me, I notice that several parts of his armor seem of slightly different make, as if they were added later on. Guess he figured out the Veronica platform the Hulkbuster relies on a few years earlier than he would have in canon.

Good for him, I guess.

" **McCole, we need-** " Tony's mechanical voice comes in a hurried tone, before it trails off as his helmet turns into the direction of where Sterns and the Ancient One are fussing over Ghost Rider-Jessica, the mangled corpse of Shuri lying off to the side.

"… **what**." He asks flatly.

"Yeah, things got weird. We'll figure something out, _after_ this Invasion has been stopped." I say, deciding that there's not much that I can do to help Jessica right now, so in order to distract myself I'll focus on the immediate threat to our collective safety.

For a moment, Tony just keeps staring, before I can almost feel him wrestle his curiosity under control, like me deciding that the army of Lovecraftian horrors dotting the New York skyline is somewhat more pressing.

" **Right. Whatever trick you pulled on the portal from Hell. Think you can do the same on the portal in the sky?** "

Automatically, both our eyes are drawn to the inverted 4th-dimensional sinkhole that's suspended upside down in the sky, whirling slimy tentacles coiling around it in impossible turns.

"It's a different kind of portal. It doesn't lead to Hell, but-" I begin, only to be immediately interrupted by Iron Man.

" **To the Dark Dimension, a plane of existence ruled by an Eldritch Abomination that would make even Lovecraft himself shit his pants. I know. The wizards filled everyone in on most of the different Evil dimensions out there, right after Hell's opening move. And** _ **that's**_ **a sentence I never thought I would have to say. Like,** _ **ever**_ **.** " He deadpans.

"Right, so we can't use the same method. Fuck it, maybe we could, but the only one who really understands what method we actually used is Sterns, and he needs to get in real close for it to work, and considering the mass of tentacles and teeth up there… besides, he also needs time and proper back-up to set it all up, and someone to get him out of there so he doesn't fry himself as well. And with Oliver shut down, there's just no way of safely getting him in position and back out again. It's damn-near impossible."

For a moment, the two of us simply stare at the army in the sky, the silence stretching between us broken only by the sounds of combat and the far-off screams of the dead and the dying.

"… **so, that's it then? With no way to close that thing we're facing an army that's** _ **literally**_ **endless. I don't know about you, but my ammo** _ **isn't**_ **. We'll lose. In the end. We'll go down swinging, that's for sure, but… there's no way we can come out on top. Is there?** " Stark softly says, ending on a questioning note as he turns to look towards me.

Whatever his personal feelings towards me are because of me stealing his tech a few years back, he knows that right now I'm our best shot at securing the survival of the human race.

Even with his faceplate down, I can imagine the slight desperation in his expression as he's _truly_ faced with the end for the first time in his life. Even during the One Day War against the Chitauri, when I had Harper and my Hysminai steal the Scepter, thus denying the Avengers the chance to close the portal too early, he hadn't been faced with such finality.

After all, that had been a single army, and they knew that the Scepter had to be around _somewhere_.

They had desperately managed to hold on to hope, then.

That hope is gone now.

Throughout his life, Tony has been able to push through despair and hopelessness in order to face approaching death head on, always trying to arm himself and others against the inevitable crisis that would be coming next. Even when he was dying of the very thing that kept him alive, he tried to make sure that Pepper and Happy would be able to go on without him, pushing everyone away so they (and he) wouldn't be hurt _again_ when he would be gone.

But now… he had already been fighting for the better part of a week. Much of downtown New York was absolutely ravaged. They had lost Natasha. _I_ had been the one to close one of the portals (or rather Sterns, who was on my team), but now I told him that I couldn't repeat that feat on the other one. And there was no way to defeat what was on the other side.

An entire dimension against one little planet.

You didn't have to be Tony Stark to figure out that the math didn't work out well for us.

But I knew something that he didn't (and couldn't).

"Not necessarily."

At his questioning look, I elaborate.

"I said that the method used on the Hell-portal would be practically impossible to recreate on the Dormammu-portal. I never said that was the _only_ method I know of to close the portal."

Stark wants to question me, but I've already stalked away, making a beeline towards where the Ancient One is crouched in front of Jessica, one palm laid flat against her belly. Her eyes are closed in concentration, but fly open as I approach her, and she rises from her crouch, turning to face me with a wary expression.

I don't say anything: I just extend my arm, hand splayed open, my palm turned upwards.

Judging by the fact that her working hand immediately reached up to touch the Eye of Agamotto, I know she understood me just fine though.

"Michael… We've had this conversation before… The Eye-"

"That conversation happened when Dormammu _wasn't_ in the process of invading Earth, the _very_ thing the Eye is supposed to guard against."

"The Sorcerer Supreme-"

" _Failed._ "

The Ancient One rears back as if slapped, but my expression remains hewn from stone as I stare her down, daring her to deny it.

Yes, Shuri opened the portal to the Dark Dimension because she wanted revenge on _me_ , that's my own damn fault, but it had been up to the Masters of the Mystic Arts to stop her in her tracks _long_ before we got to this point.

For fucks sakes, I wasn't even on the planet when she opened the portal! How the hell was _I_ supposed to stop her from dooming the world when I wasn't even _on_ it?!

The whole point of the Masters of the Mystic Arts was to stop this _exact_ thing from happening in the first place, so it was on _them_ , not me, that Shuri _succeeded_ (the rest is on me though, I'll admit at least in my own mind).

And the Ancient One knew it too. Still, for the multiple centuries that she has been the Sorcerer Supreme, she has kept the artefact safe from all imaginable threats. Civilizations have come and gone, and yet the amulet has remained in her possession.

It's understandable that's she's reluctant to give up such a powerful artefact, even now.

Understandable, but _very_ annoying.

"Michael… the Eye is _immensely_ powerful. The chance that you could kill us all are significant. The chance that you'll end up killing _yourself_ … they are high enough that calling them mere 'chance' is being naively positive." She stresses, but I simply step closer to her, my expression not changing in the slightest.

Catching her gaze, I slowly track my eyes towards the skeletal Jessica, before pointedly turning back to look at the Ancient One again, whose face drops when she realizes what I'm getting at.

"You. _Owe_. Me."

The Ancient One is torn and looks close to giving in, so I push on, trying to break her resolve as I attack her weak points.

"Look me in the eye, and tell me _honestly_ that you are in a condition to fight your way through his army, get past those tentacles and then face him in his own realm."

"And _you_ can?" The sorcerer tries to challenge me, but I have my answer ready.

"Yes." I say with utter confidence, which takes the old sorcerer slightly aback in surprise.

For a moment we merely stare at each other as I can see indecision warring in her gaze, so I press on.

"Look me in the eye and tell me that I'm _not_ the best choice to send."

The bald woman opens and closes her mouth a few times, her gaze flicking from the massive portal in the sky, to Jessica, to me and then back to Jessica again. When she closes her eyes with a pained expression, I know I've won.

It fills me with dread.

Slowly, the Ancient One reaches up with her non-shattered hand, undoing the clasp of the necklace. Instead of falling to the ground, the Eye of Agamotto remains floating in place for a few moments, before it gently moves to rest in her open palm.

As if she's Frodo and I'm Galadriel (… that's a weird mental image) she raises her hand towards me, offering me the powerful artefact her order has zealously protected for literal millennia with their very lives.

My own hand reaches down, dwarfing hers. The tips of my fingers close around the brass metal surrounding the Time Stone, but I can tell by a slight pressure that the Ancient One is still holding onto it.

The grip is not nearly tight enough to contest my strength if I were to take it anyways, and the Sorcerer Supreme knows it as well. It's a mere token resistance, more of an involuntary reflex from her centuries of dedication rather than any real attempt of her to keep me from taking it.

While I _could_ just tear it out of her hand, I immediately decide against it. Yes, this is yet one more artefact that I've been chasing for literally my entire life and a large part of me just wants to take the damn Stone and run. _But_ I have by now realized that I need to consider the people that I now share a universe with and not _just_ my own quest for power.

This entire fiasco is an example of what happens when I don't.

"Do you trust me?" I ask, seeing the Ancient One look up in surprise.

She searches my face for what feels a long time, yet cannot have been more than a few moments. Exactly what's she's looking for, I cannot tell, but I do know when she's found it: the remaining pressure on the Eye falls away as the Ancient One lets go.

"I do. I dread what the future may bring… but whatever may come from this point in Time onwards, it is undoubtedly better than Dormammu's complete victory. Best of luck… Hyperion."

Giving her a nod, I place the ancient artefact around my neck, the shutting of the clasp almost sounding like a thunderclap to me, an unnatural weight now hanging from my neck (which may just be my imagination running wild due to me knowing what I'm _actually_ holding here, considering that Strange didn't really seem to think much of the Artefact when he first put it on).

Unlike all the other Stones that I've collected so far, this one doesn't hurt. In fact, I barely feel anything Time-related shenanigans at all. It's _powerful_ , that immediately jumps out towards me. Now that I'm so close to its energy signature, I'm fairly sure I could toss the amulet into the ocean and find it with my eyes closed in less than a few minutes.

But all that energy is just that… _energy_. Pure, simple and ready for use. The Mind Stone had distinct impressions of _mental_ energy and the Power Stone had sent raw _power_ rampaging through me, but the Eye works just like a generator of electricity, or something equally mundane. Its (relatively) neutral emission reminds me of the Space Stone. While the energy that we extracted from the Tesseract _did_ have unique energy signatures and interactions, and had lent itself perfectly to experimenting with the Space-Time continuum, the Tesseract itself had mostly just felt as a ridiculously powerful energy generator, rather than a primordial singularity representing the concept of Space.

A buffer between infinite power and the user. _This_ container is less… elegant than what the Asgardians built around the Space Stone, but it's just as effective at making the primordial levels of energy more manageable to interact with.

I can hear Tony walking towards me judging from the metallic impacts on tarmac behind me, but I ignore him in favor of placing my hands in the appropriate signs, slowly going through the movements to unlock the Eye.

" **Right. The bald lady gave you a piece of jewelry. Mind telling me how pimping yourself will help us face a literal dimension full of evil?** " Tony's voice comes from behind me, his tone biting because he's unsure of what's happening and considering what he's been through, his patience is running understandably thin.

Rather than answering him, I complete the last twisting motions that fully slide away the brass lock in front of the Time Stone, it's emerald light bursting forth from right underneath my neck. Closing my eyes in focus, I extend one hand as I hold the other close to my face, fingers alternatively curled and extended as if I'm a ninja from the Naruto world.

The energy from the Eye increases in brightness as I start turning my outstretched wrist, a green glow bursting around my form, startling Stark and even with my eyes closed I can _feel_ the disapproval from the Ancient One.

I don't stop though, forcing the massive amounts of energies to do my bidding as I keep reversing Time through the spell I've cast. Given that I'm standing in the middle of a literal warzone, it's difficult to keep my concentration, but I've been through situations that required my absolute focus often enough by now that I manage to keep all of my attention on _not_ fucking up the spell.

Only when the spell has been fully completed do I open my eyes, going through the final motions to properly end the spell and return the Eye to dormancy. As expected, the Ancient One is frowning at me, but when I raise a questioning eyebrow at her, she gives a reluctant nod of her head, acknowledging the necessity of my move.

Turning around, I can see that Tony's faceplate is up, showing his shocked face as he stares me up and down, and I can't help but grin at his expression. His shock is understandable of course: it's not every day you see time reversing itself right in front of your eyes.

Where only moments before my armor had been beaten up and I had looked like shit, we were now both in pristine condition with not a mark on us. A quick glance at my HUD showed me that all systems were green, all energy levels were at 100% and all ammo was fully stocked.

It was as if we hadn't even been involved in the fighting at all.

Or it would be if I didn't feel a stinging feeling in my side, right where Belathauzer had stabbed me. The pain wasn't as severe as before, almost as if had dulled with age or something, but the wound was definitely still there. Once I manage to get some down-town, I should take a look at the Hell-flame inflicted wound, but right now I have more pressing matters to attend to.

"That was _extremely_ dangerous. _One_ mishap, and you would've reversed your mind in time as well, not just your body. That would have either made you catatonic, shoved you outside of our timestream or made you forget you were casting the spell, causing you to keep reversing time until you made yourself younger than a baby and simply _unmade_ yourself." The Ancient One says, and I can see Stark's eyes widen even further at her words.

"It worked, didn't it?" I reply over my shoulder, half of my mind on checking over all of my body and armor, looking for anomalies of any kind (other than the impossible remains of the wound I received from a Dark God).

The rest of my mind wonders if what the Ancient One is talking about could've really killed me… or if it would've returned me to my home dimension instead.

"Fair enough." The Ancient One says with a frustrated sigh, before she turns her back on me and moves towards Jessica again.

Putting the ancient sorcerer (and questions about time-travel and dimension-displacement) out of my mind, I look back to Stark, who seems to have recollected himself somewhat.

"… you. You are _very_ weird. You know that, right?"

"It has been pointed out to me before, yes." I calmly reply, stepping up and glancing at my target: the Dormammu-portal.

Seeing what I'm looking at, Tony becomes businesslike immediately, stepping closer to me as his faceplate slams down.

" **What do you need?** " asks Iron Man in his metallic voice, and despite everything that I have been through and despite our current situation, I cannot help the small glow of pride growing in my chest at the realization that _Iron Man_ is looking to me for leadership.

That's just about every nerd's dream on _some_ level!

Immediately and effortlessly, I shake off the childish hero-worship that's a left-over from my previous life, my mind flashing through all the possible approaches to the portal, identifying any and all opponents and hindrances.

"I don't think there's any individual in Dormammu's army that can pose a threat to me, at least on this side. But if they swarm me, and they _will_ , then they can keep harrying me away from the portal. They'll try to delay me from going through so that Dormammu can send in more and more heavy hitters. He's searching to make this into a war of attrition, since he knows that if he's successful in doing so, his victory will be inevitable."

" **We'll set up a cordon for you. Everything that isn't shiny and golden gets shot to pieces. You got a plan for dealing with those tentacles? So far they've only formed a cannon-thing** _ **once**_ **, but it was enough to completely vaporize the Quinjet, Thor's arm and a large part of Fifth Avenue.** "

Hefting my shield a little higher, I give a confident smirk, which is hidden by my restored faceplate.

"That energy attack won't be a problem for me. In fact, I'm counting on it."

"… **Is this the part where you extend your hand to** _ **me**_ **like you're Aladdin and ask me if I trust you? I mean, I'm pretty sure I own stocks in several zoos, so I probably own a tiger or two, but I'm** _ **not**_ **putting on harem pants and a mid-riff baring top just so you can live out your Disney fantasy.** " Tony dryly says, and despite the severity of the situation, I can't quite keep myself from letting out an amused scoff.

"Shame. You'd make it work." I say with a grin, my mind flashing to Robert Downey Jr. appearance in Sherlock 2, complete in drag and make-up.

Tony is naturally oblivious, and manages to somehow puff up his chest despite being in power-armor made from a titanium-gold alloy.

" **Of course I would. I can pull** _ **anything**_ **off.** "

We share a grim chuckle, even as we know that Jarvis and Phineas are listening in and are already coordinating the battered remains of Earth's defenders into preparing a final assault on Dormammu's forces according to our conversation.

" **So, smash through his forces, deal with the tentacles. Then what? How are you going to close the portal?** " Stark asks, and though he tries to keep his voice neutral, I can tell that he has some idea of what my plan is.

The Ancient One already suggested doing it herself a few days ago after all.

"I'm going to fly through the portal, confront Dormammu and make him an offer that he cannot refuse."

For a moment, the glowing slits in Tony's helmet keep staring at me, before he speaks up in a grim voice.

" **Something tells me that a primordial, extra-dimensional entity of absolute evil won't be impressed by your Marlon Brando impression.** " He says dryly.

"You just say that because you haven't seen me on movie nights. I do a hell of a Marlon Brando. Others too: Robin Williams, Morgan Freeman, Walken and Eastwood, you name it." I say blithely and I can hear him softly chuckle in his armor, before we both fall silent.

Realizing that we're stalling, we shake ourselves out of our quiet contemplations and the small, surreal moment of peace is broken. We both crouch a little in preparation for take-off, before I can see Iron Man's helmet turn towards me.

" **McCole… in case this is a one-way trip, I want you to know: you're a dick, but even so, it has been a genuine honor.** "

"Likewise, Stark."

We exchange a nod and without any further words, active the boosters in our armor, blasting off side by side. I could outstrip him somewhat due to a combination of better armor and my natural flight, but there's little point in turning this into a race, so instead we fly at roughly the same pace towards a collection of flying blobs of exposed skin, teeth and far too many (or too _few_ ) eyes.

As I predicted, Dormammu's forces all drop what they're doing and start converging on me, moving like a massive beehive. The ground forces immediately turn around when I fly overhead, trying to chase me down, while some of the more athletic ones immediately start scaling the surrounding buildings as fast as they can. They ignore everything else, and I can see them throwing themselves at barricades manned by soldiers and SHIELD Agents in a desperate bid to keep up with me.

Some of the barricades are overrun due to the sheer swell of numbers, but Phineas' drones are keeping a close eye on everything (and are working together with Jarvis' own surveillance systems) and the VI in my Aurelion Armor quickly lets me know that the vast majority of the brave fighters survived, the Mindless Ones ignoring them completely.

The few deaths are because some unfortunate souls couldn't get out of the way of the sudden stampede in time and were simply trampled underfoot.

For now though, the flow of chitin and teeth on the ground isn't much of concern, especially since we're closing in on the flying forces that are retreating to the portal. Those that are already there start swirling around it like a tornado made of flesh, wings and eyes, clearly meant to halt my advance as a living funnel extends down from the portal in the sky to the skyscrapers down below.

As Tony and I prepare to engage the outer vanguard of flying demons, a loud staccato of gunfire rings out from behind us and several score of the smaller demons go down in great spurts of dark glowing blood. The larger ones survive, but are definitely wounded and start struggling to remain airborne.

Looking over my shoulder, I can see several Raptors and Quinjets fall in formation behind Stark and I, making us the tip of their V. The nearest Quinjet contacts us, and I can see Hawkeye's face pop up on my HUD.

He looks _pissed_.

"Keep going. We got your six. Fry those _fuckers_."

"Copy that." I reply, before looking over to Stark, who looks back at me, before we give each other a nod, communicating without the need for words.

Simultaneously, several flaps on our shoulders, back and even calves slide away, showing rows and rows of explosive ordinance. We madly accelerate towards the outer layer of the swarm, which is continuously being fed by streams of flying monsters from all over down-town.

As we pour everything we have in speeding up even further, the distance between us and Dormammu's creatures quickly closes, but we hold off on unleashing our payload for just a little longer, even as we race in close enough to make out individual teeth and eyes on the wide variety of Dark Dimension creatures.

Right on cue, bullets and missiles slam into the swarm with a vengeance courtesy of our escort, taking down the waves in front of us in gory explosion and torn off giblets from the creatures that perish under a veritable storm of gunfire, allowing Stark and I to punch through Dormammu's outer defenses.

Behind the scattered flyers lies a swirling wall of flesh and chitin and without needing to say a word, Tony and I unleash our entire pay-load into it, before swerving off to the side, curving around the dark column. A whole host of macro-missiles, lasers, explosives and exotic ammunition crash into the swirling tornado of creatures.

For just a briefest second, the world seems to hold its breath.

Then there's a lightshow big enough to shame any Fourth of July celebration as gargantuan mushrooms of fire bloom all along the column of creatures, concussive forces punching literal holes in their formation. As they are rocked by one explosion after the next, they die in droves and the simultaneous screams of hundreds of demonic creatures rings out across the city.

Music to my ears.

The half dozen Quinjets and Raptors that had formed up on Iron Man and me had fallen behind when we made our push, instead laying down covering fire into the outer layers of creatures. Now they had punched through as well, and released their own missiles into the already weakened swarm, before veering off as well.

I could spot the Quinjet that Hawkeye flew unleashing something that looked suspiciously like a toned-down version of the Jericho-missile. Either Fury had gone behind Stark's back, or this was part of an older (or _new_ ) contract.

When I didn't see huge explosion, I briefly thought that either the weapon had malfunctioned (maybe it had been Hammer-tech instead) or that Barton had _somehow_ missed (which seemed unlikely). But then explosions flared into being _behind_ the layers of the swarm, and I realized that Hawkeye had managed to aim his missiles through the _tiny_ gaps between the swarming bodies to get them into the heart of the column.

I'm somewhat grateful that the man sticks to a bow and arrow, to be honest.

As I fly in for yet another strafing run, I can clearly see the carnage that Barton managed to do with his salvo. In sheer numbers, Stark and I hold the highest kill count (with mine being higher due to packing more ammo in my Cross Technology armatures), but by taking out the core of the swarm, all of the concussive force had hit the creatures from the inside outwards, greatly destabilizing the entire formation.

In the general chaos that ensued, Stark and the jets kept making strafing runs while I sought an opening within the writhing mass of flesh. By my estimates, we had taken out roughly a third of the creatures already, but more were adding themselves to the defensive formation every second, either coming from the city or through the portal.

Those coming from the city were thankfully hindered by other jets and choppers harassing them, taking out their numbers before they managed to group up, but there were simply more demons than there were aircraft. The ground forces were becoming a problem as well. The majority were still far below us in the streets, but the buildings surrounding us were getting covered in Mindless Ones that clawed their way up the vertical surfaces.

Most of those weren't really a problem either, as we were flying both too fast and too high for them to make jump and try and board us (not that that stopped them from trying). There were a few amongst them that had ranged attacks of some kind though. Most of these were energy beams, but I saw at least three that appeared to shoot out bony protrusions.

I think one of them was actually spitting its teeth at us.

They weren't _that_ dangerous on their own (they also had rather poor aim, we quickly found out) but combined with the hectic aerial combat that was going on, they took up a chunk of our attention, which was deadly enough on its own, as shown when a Raptor narrowly swerved out of the way of a blinding violent laser beam that was aimed directly at its cockpit.

The plane smashed itself into a nearby skyscraper instead.

Still, Dormammu's losses were far greater than ours at the moment, which meant that if there was ever any chance to swing this battle into our favor, it would be now. There was no Hell to harass us on the ground. There was no Dark Dimension fueled, Darkhold empowered Ghost Rider running interference with our battle plans.

It was now or never.

Firing up boosters on the right side of my body in order to aid my natural flight, I abruptly right myself from a deep tailspin with a sudden jerk, scythe raised high as I gather energy around the Mind Stone. A bright yellow beam lances into the writhing tornado of eldritch flesh, right where their formation has been destabilized the most and their numbers are thinnest.

The beam of energy punches through the harried creatures, nearly bursting through the other side of the funnel entirely. In a flash, I've hurled myself trough the created opening, finally finding myself inside the tornado and in clear view of the portal.

And the tentacles that are sprouting from it. Each one is easily as large as a Chitauri Leviathan, and seems to be either thinner or thicker than one, though I'm not entirely sure (it seems to change randomly whenever I'm not looking). There seem to be roughly half a dozen of them, though it's impossible to tell exactly how many, due to them twisting around each other so much (and because their number seems to be inconsistent).

More importantly, they're bundling together, just like Phineas showed me when I just arrived back on Earth. Bright (ultra)violet/yellow/green light pulses down their impossible lengths in a steady rhythm, almost like a heartbeat.

And it's speeding up.

Light starts to warp due to the sheer amount of energy that they're giving off as they start wrapping around each other, forming an inverted mountaintop of pulsating flesh which grows brighter with every heartbeat.

And the tip of said mountaintop is pointed straight at me.

I'm not that worried as I raise my shield in front of me, the Power Stone in its center burning brightly in anticipation as I wait for the inevitable energy blast.

The funnel is trying to collapse onto me, trying to force me to move my shield and expose myself, but Stark and the jets are still fighting the ever-growing swarm, and now that the creatures aren't in a tight formation anymore, presenting a unified wall of hardened chitin, claws and teeth, it's easy pickings for my allies.

Due to the sheer number of creatures that start to surround me, Stark and the others can only attack the outer layer, and the innermost demons are nearly upon me, ready to hurl themselves at me in a suicidal attempt to give the tentacles a clean shot.

Which is when the yellow of the Mind Stone flares like a sun and _Harpe_ starts rapidly spiraling around me, blade outwards. Within seconds, I feel like I'm stuck inside a humongous blender.

Untouched by the demons and with my allies chipping away at their numbers, I'm feeling pretty confident as I await the final buildup of the massive organic structure above me. In fact, it's somewhat necessary for what I have in mind.

So, I curl slightly inwards, raise my shield higher, and send my scythe spiraling even faster…

When a roar suddenly rings out very close to me, startling me and dragging my gaze to my left side. I can see that a section of the whirling, smaller flying demons had parted when I wasn't looking, allowing a massive shape through, right on a collision course with me.

It looks like it's a bastard offspring of the Skullcrawlers from Kong and the Terrasque from D&D, which was _so_ ugly neither parent wanted it so they tossed into a toxic wasteland instead.

And its fang-filled mouth was mere feet away from me.

Of course, _Harpe_ was still in blender-mode, and the creature (Skullque? Terracrawler?) had paid a heavy price for jumping off a nearby skyscraper to hurl itself towards me. My scythe had sliced clean through parts of its neck and upper body and had even managed to turn one of its clawed arms in nothing but strips of flesh, barely held together by cords of skin and sinew.

But it wasn't dead yet.

And those teeth were still very much intact.

I almost move my shield to intercept the creature, when I can see from the corner of my eye that the energy buildup of the tentacles is complete: briefly there's a bright star of blinding non-light at their intertwined tips.

Then a beam about as thick as the one I used on Belathauzer comes screaming down towards me.

I curse as I franticly go over every option that I can think of in the few milliseconds that I have left. Either I use my shield to block the incoming SkullTerraCrawlerQue and get de-atomized by the energy wave. Or, I use my shield to block the incoming energy wave and get mauled by the TerraSkullQueCrawler. I could try to block the energy beam with my shield and use _Harpe_ to stop the demonic creature, but the problem is that my _Harpe_ is simply too sharp and has too little mass to stop the momentum of the (likely) multi-ton creature.

Enlarging _Harpe_ to giant-size could work, but the enlarging process takes a little bit of time (and I'm kicking myself for not having it giant-size to begin with), and however brief the transformation may be, the energy beam of the tentacles and the teeth of the creature are still faster.

Right when I'm about to take my chances and mentally command the Cross Tech in _Harpe_ to enlarge the scythe, salvation arrives.

In the form of something impossibly large and _on fire_ crashing into the side of the hideous Void creature, carrying it _into_ the side of a skyscraper. I can't really pay attention to it though, because _immediately_ afterwards, the tentacle beam _slams_ into my shield with all the fury of an evil god.

Despite the fact that the beam is several dozens of times larger than I am, the _entirety_ of the laser is halted by my shield instead of blasting past me, the beam ending abruptly in a flat surface right where it meets my Power Stone, a perfect cylinder forming between me and the tentacles.

The sheer force of the attack pushes me back down several feet, but I grit my teeth and fire up every Blue Box in my armor and I start forcing the beam back. I can sense all that power crashing into my shield, but instead of atomizing the metal, it meets a force field of literal endless Power and slowly but surely, the beam starts getting sucked _into_ my shield.

The attack is bright enough that I'm completely blinded, even through my polarized, auto-adjusting, anti-glare helmet, so instead I just close my eyes and continue pushing upwards against the waterfall of force and energy that's crashing into me.

After a few moments however, everything goes quiet as the pressure disappears as suddenly as it had crashed into me.

The tentacles were spent.

As the last streams of light are sucked into my shield, I madly accelerate upwards, throwing my shield towards the portal. After a few feet, I grip it in a strong telekinetic hold as I light up my right fist with my golden Chi.

With a roar, I slam my Meteor Fist into the back of my shield and… well, I suppose that's what a full-powered Kamehameha looks like then.

A beam easily twice as large as the one the organic cannon had fired at me screams towards the portal, fueled by their own earlier attack, my Chi and the Power Stone, on a collision course with the tentacles which are still in the process of untangling themselves.

It impacts them… and isn't even slowed down. The enormous beam of energy simply punches straight through the intertwined mountain of otherworldly flesh, cutting several of the tentacles cleanly in half as it engulfs the portal itself. The outer parts of my attack stream past the non-edges of the inverted sinkhole, but the majority of it keeps travelling into its infinite darkness, crashing into Dormammu's dimension.

As the flare of light fades away, I'm right on the tail end of the attack, shooting past the burnt out, flailing husks of the tentacles as I see the portal getting larger and larger, until it encompasses my entire field of vision.

There's a feeling of falling… upwards? Which lasts for an undeterminable amount of time as I just keep on hurtling forwards, feeling as if I'm stuck in a twisted version of the Bifrost. Finally, the twisting energies and lights stop swirling and stretching, the world coming back into focus.

I really wish it didn't.

The scenery itself isn't that unfamiliar. It's the same LSD-fueled collection of planets, strings, nebulae and clouds that Strange saw when he went to confront Dormammu. _Now_ however, I'm faced not only with Dormammu's face forming from the literal backdrop of the surrounding universe, but between him and me… is his army.

Seeing art of the Chaos forces from Warhammer 40K hadn't prepared me for this.

The art of the darkest creatures and planes in Magic The Gathering hadn't prepared me for this.

Fuck, not even seeing art for HP Lovecraft had prepared me for this.

Every possible nightmare that humanity has ever had was arrayed before me, every creepy, crawly, slimy thing man has feared from the time it was holed up in caves and didn't know what fire was.

Worms longer than trains. Spiders larger than buildings. Tentacles and eyes where they shouldn't be. Slime and pus trailing from countless oozing wounds. The chittering sound of endless wings and mandibles. Their number represented the physical manifestation of 'infinite'.

And all of them were now looking at me.

There was a stretch of no-man's land between us, the ground appearing cracked, glowing and fuzzy, like a microscopic particle when viewed completely high on acid. The reason why I wasn't instantly buried in literal waves of pulsating and twisted flesh quickly became clear when I looked closer at what exactly I was standing on.

It seemed to be the remains of what could've been the kraken, if it had dozens and dozens of tentacles and a bulbous body that looked like it belonged on a spider. More than half was missing though, and the twitching remains showed a clean, circular cut: seems I didn't just take out the tentacles it had on _my_ side, but managed to blast what was hiding on _this_ side to smithereens as well.

" **Hyperion… Come to die… Behold as-** "

SCYTHE TO THE FACE!

I wasted no time or words as I enlarge to my full size and hurl _Harpe_ with all my might towards his face. Despite the fact that it's so large that it's basically the entire sky at this point, I underestimated just how large he truly was. He merely looks only that big due to the vast distances between us.

Still, powered by my Mind Stone enhanced telekinesis, _Harpe_ races at multiple times the speed of sounds, slamming into his face after a few seconds. Which incidentally gives me a rough estimate for how large Dormammu truly is.

Enlarged, _Harpe_ is roughly eighty feet tall (about 25 meters).

When it hit Dormammu's face, it hit him right between the eyes with the blade end, yet the bottom of the Beserker-staff only barely reached past the end of his "nose".

 _Fuck. Me._

And of course, there's still his army to consider as well.

As an arachnophobe, well over a third of the creatures arrayed before me have the required amounts of spindly legs, glistening beady eyes and hideous bodies to make me breath hard in panic and fear. Still, feeling the magic around my neck, I try to find my confidence again as I ignore Dormammu's screams, even as they shake the very ground beneath my feet. Instead I immediately recall _Harpe_ as I let out a massive beam from the Mind Stone into the first ranks of the demonic army.

" **Kill him! Rip off his skin! Tear off his flesh! Gnaw on his bones!"**

Ear-piercing shrieks come from the army in front of me as it wells up like a tsunami, approaching me with thundering strides or on skittering stilts and icy fear grabs my heart in a vice-like grip. And yet, something within me gives me the strength to keep dragging the energy beam along their frontline as I catch _Harpe_ in my hand, and I fly forwards to meet them.

I fly forwards… to my death.

The massive wave of creatures keeps closing in as the distance rapidly shrinks, though they die in droves as my Mind beam keeps frying those in front of me. And then we crash into each other.

I had my shield ready, crashing Power Stone first into their endless ranks. A massive shockwave of force expands from the point of impact, pulverizing those near me and throwing those further away clean off their feet.

And yet more horrors keep rushing towards me.

As before, when I stormed the Hell-portal, I keep _Harpe_ in a tight hurricane around me, cutting them off at their multiple knees (if they had them) or simply cleaving them in half entirely (though that didn't always kill them). It didn't take long before I was wading through a river of caustic blood and stumbling over fleshy corpses and cracked carapaces.

The only reason I hadn't been ripped apart yet by a legion of teeth and claws was because the Power Stone offered me an absolute defense. I was almost immediately surrounded and was attacked from all sides, even from above and below as I waded deeper and deeper into their filth. But they couldn't press to close on me, due to absolute massive discharges of power from my shield whenever I slammed it into a creature or into the ground.

Still, I was but one man. These abominations were literally endless in number.

There was only one way that this could end.

I had been fighting for… hours? Weeks? Or maybe for no "time" at all. But I started noticing that my death was rapidly approaching.

The first sign was when I ran out of ammo. I had used up every single missile, bullet and grenade that I had stored in my armor using Cross-Technology, meaning they easily numbered in the thousands. After unleashing them all, I was surrounded by deep craters and flaming corpses, but other than shying away from the sudden light, my enemies didn't hesitate in throwing their disgusting bodies at me again and again and _again_.

The second sign was when I lost _Harpe_. After cutting through layers of mucus, flesh, bone and chitin, even the enchanted blade was beginning to chip, its enhancement gradually failing one after the other. Its final moment came when I recalled it to me because a creature that would make a Chaos Spawn look handsome in comparison had just barreled into me. It's various gaping maws were desperately trying to tear a piece out of me, and I had just used my shield to bash another demon away, leaving my guard open. With a roar, I had rammed my Meteor Fist into what passed for its throat, giving me some breathing room, before summoning _Harpe_ back to my hand and _ramming_ it into its hideous skull.

The blade snapped clean off when I tried to pull it out again.

The staff itself was sundered when a titanic being apparently made entirely of shadows and rivalling me in size swung a tentacle/claw/fist/blade at me and I tried to parry with the Beserker staff.

It cracked all along its length, before the bottom half was simply sheared off entirely.

I made the creature pay by breathing a tidal wave of fire onto it (making it appear more like a Balrog instead) which revealed its head. So I slammed the jagged edge of the Beserker staff in what I think was an eye socket, burying it nearly completely in its flesh. It shrieked and fell to the ground completely still, so I think that killed it.

Just to be sure, I slammed my shield down hard enough to entirely vaporize it and destabilize the "planet" I had been fighting on.

Taking to the sky only made it easier for them to assault me from all sides, so I desperately fought my way to a floating island not much larger than a sub-urban house. I landed heavily on its surface, and had to immediately defend myself from all sides as flying creatures assaulted me from above, while multi-legged rushed up from underneath this barren hunk of psychedelic rock.

The creatures kept trying everything in their power to swarm me under the watchful eyes of Dormammu, a _very_ slight deformation in the ever-changing flesh between his eyes the only proof of the blow I had struck against him. Judging from the hunger in his burning eyes and the anticipation on his face, he hadn't bothered trying to vaporize me on the spot because he enjoyed seeing me swarmed and worn-down bit by bit.

It's not as if I was making a noticeable dent in his forces after all.

A bite here, a claw strike there, slowly but surely my armor started being more and more gouged and dented. Several parts started shutting down completely as its energy levels kept on getting lower and lower.

That was the third sign that my death was near: my Aurelion Armor simply shut down entirely. Without its actuators and hydraulics helping me move itself, its staggering weight quickly started wearing on me, my movements slowing down significantly almost immediately.

Which meant that I was hit more and more.

The fourth, and final, sign, was when an inverted scorpion managed to get in close and pierce me in the back of my right knee very deeply with all three of its stingers. Almost immediately, my leg collapsed underneath me as a consuming inferno of pain shot up through my leg and immediately started spreading to the rest of my body.

I managed to kill it by ramming the point of my shield through the carapace protecting its head, piercing his brain. Then I detonated a massive pulse from the Power Stone, which destroyed the rest of the body, the creatures that had jumped me during that short time and nearly breaking my little island completely in half.

There was a sudden lull in the fighting as I fell to my knee, completely and utterly exhausted. I could feel my regeneration trying to keep me going, trying to repair my body, but it had been doing so for every bruise, every scrape, every tear in my flesh and every broken bone, over and _over_ again.

This poison… it was simply too much.

As I sat there kneeling, breathing heavily and nearly succumbing to the pain, my vision paradoxically became both brighter and darker at the same time.

The edges of my vision were darkening, signaling that I was passing out, yet the center of my vision was filled with something unbearably bright.

Dormammu's eye, I suddenly realize.

Looming over my broken form, Dormammu starts laughing, slowly and low at first, but steadily building up to an earth-shattering howling as he looks down upon me. With a grin several dozens of feet wide, he leers down at me, the rippling shifting of his face picking up pace in accordance with his malicious glee.

" **Hyperion… Little Lord… I shall** _ **enjoy**_ **this…** "

I slowly register his musings as my mind fights its way through the cobwebs of my utter exhaustion, and despite it all, despite having been attacked by and buried in my worst fears and nightmares, despite looking up at this near-omnipotent force of pure evil, I cannot help myself.

I start laughing.

It's weak, and more like coughing, but my defiance registers like a shock to the ancient being, judging by his widened eyes and his gritted teeth. With the very last of my strength, I look up at his furious face, and let out a challenging smirk, all of my fears falling away as I know that I'm about to die.

"No. You won't. You _really_ wont." I manage to choke out, and the last thing that I see is a bright purple light racing towards me from Dormammu's mouth as a rage-filled roar rings in my ears.

* * *

" **Ah, Hyperion… come to die… behold as-** "

SCYTHE TO THE FACE!

" **What-?! You-?! What is this?!** "

Taking in my surroundings, I can let out a relieved laugh. I'm faced with a literal mountain of corpses, some of which are familiar to me. Creatures that I have decapitated, bifurcated and set on fire before I died.

Recalling _Harpe_ to my hand, I turn to look at Dormammu's gargantuan face, ultimate satisfaction filling me when I see a tiny mark in-between the twisting flesh of his eyebrows.

Right next to a similar, slightly older looking mark.

Looking at the army of slobbering and chittering creatures surrounding me on all sides, fear and nervousness still thunder through my veins, but this time it is countered by a fire of determination from deep within my chest.

Hitching my shield higher on my arm and opening up flaps all over my armor, revealing my restored ammunition, I prepare to do battle once again with the most nightmarish creatures that I have ever seen.

Once more, the endless horde starts flooding towards me, somewhat hindered by where those I had killed before are already lying on the ground, spilling blood and pus everywhere. Giving a roar of my own, I fly towards them with a sonic boom, and once again I'm surrounded by fire, death and the broken corpses of my enemies.

I fare a little better this time. The creature that broke the staff and the creature that poisoned me are dead already this time around, so _Harpe_ lasts me a lot longer this time around, until it is swallowed whole by what almost looks like Cthulhu. I manage to keep my telekinetic grip on it, and manage to rip the scythe straight out of his chest as if it were infected by an Alien, but the scythe is ruined beyond all use.

Apparently that had been one of Dormammu's more powerful minions (or he's simply freaked out by what's going on) since he doesn't wait for his minions to rip me apart, instead unleashing the same beam of energy he used to kill me with before. I manage to catch it on my shield this time, though it does send me crashing several dozens of feet backwards, almost straight into the "arms" of a large creature that would feel right at home in papa Nurgle's Garden.

I take care of both issues by simply dodging to the side, letting the beam continue on and vaporize the large demon.

Due to the nature of this dimension, it's impossible to tell how much time has passed and if I lasted longer this time around, but eventually, I simply can't compete against Dormammu's powers and endless army.

This time is worse than the last one, though. A humanoid creature, completely covered in the inverted Void-texture of the Mindless Ones, managed to summon a spear made of dark powers and pin me straight through my foot.

I managed to kill it by literally parting its head from its body with my telekinesis, but the damage had been done. Because of my immobility, Dormammu managed to get a clean shot this time, and managed to hit my left shoulder, right above the edge of my shield, taking off the arm entirely.

Left without my shield and in a mind-boggling amount of pain, I couldn't defend myself as a horde of creatures swarmed me, trying to bury my body under their maws, tentacles and spindly legs.

They kept clawing and biting me, steadily ripping through my armor and tearing of pieces of my flesh as I was buried under their sheer collective weight, even as I desperately punched and kicked with my remaining arm and leg.

" **Let this be your end, Hyperion!** "

Dormammu's hateful roar was the last thing that I heard before several sets of jaws clamped down on my head and the world went blank.

* * *

" **Ah… Hyperion… wait-** "

SCYTHE TO THE FACE!

* * *

" **Cease this!** "

SCYTHE TO THE FACE!

* * *

" **I SAID CEASE!"**

SCYTHE TO THE FACE!

* * *

" **I WILL MAKE YOU** _ **BEG**_ **FOR DEATH!** "

SCYTHE TO THE FACE!

* * *

" **END THIS TORMENT! DORMAMMU COMMANDS YOU!** "

SCYTHE TO THE FACE!

* * *

All was quiet. All that surrounded me was and endless expanse of the inverted colors of the Void, swirling endless overhead and far below. And the literal mountains of corpses dotting the surrounding landscape, those were here too.

With each subsequent reset, their numbers kept swelling and the bodies kept stacking higher. While I reset through "time" (as much as that concept was applicable in this dimension), they don't. Dormammu doesn't reset, he merely experiences _all_ of time in a way that… well, I'm honestly not really sure just how exactly he sees time. He existed before it did, and now lives outside of it completely.

And he absolutely _despises_ what I'm doing to him and his dimension. It's a neat variant on what Strange had managed to do. I had tweaked it though so that the absence of time in the Dark Dimension worked against Dormammu, making it only apply to me and indirectly to the Big D.

The more often he kills me, the more of his minions I kill each time I rewind. It's like the opposite effect of resting at a Bonfire in Dark Souls. And it's taking its toll, slowly but surely. I'm pretty sure I've been here for what would translate to decades, if not centuries (or perhaps just mere minutes, there's simply no way of telling). I have killed… maybe thousands and thousands of his demons.

That's only a drop in the ocean, but give me a few more eternities and those numbers would stack up significantly, especially since with each new attempt I grew stronger, faster and more skilled.

Like a gamer who has to redo a particularly hard level over and _over_ again until he knows the entire map by heart.

And, in the end, what is the ocean if not a very large collection of individual drops?

Dormammu seems to have realized this though. In the last 42 resets, he has only sent an army against me 16 times, all with differing compositions and tactics. The other times he tried to use his own powers against me, trying to rip me to shreds _immediately_.

To be fair, those runs never did last long, his power was simply too overwhelming in his own dimension.

He had this planetoid swallow me whole, imitated the death star, blew me up, ripped me apart, filled the very air with uncountable spears made from dark energy turning me into a pincushion, and so on and so forth.

He always stops doing those runs after a few times, since while hist attacks are ridiculously powerful, I either mange to find a way to counteract them (usually by relying on the Power Stone) or he realizes that if killing me the same way ten times doesn't work, then killing me a hundred times probably won't work either.

One of the most annoying series of resets was where I died before I even managed to throw my scythe at his face.

Just, reset, boom!

I'm dead.

Rinse and repeat.

By using the Mind Stone to boost my perception to ridiculously high levels, I had managed to _finally_ see what the fuck he had been doing: he had memorized the _exact_ spot I reset to each time, and summoned a humongous spire right in that spot, impaling me as if I were an Ottoman and he was Vlad Tepes with a chip on his shoulder.

I'm kinda glad I died before I could fully register those deaths to be honest.

Most of my deaths have actually begun to blur together. I've honestly lost count of how many times I've died, though it's easily in the triple digits.

That's such a weird thing to say: I can't fully recall most of my own deaths. It's true though. Most of them involve pain, screaming, and then getting either ripped to pieces alive, eaten alive, impaled or blasted to my very last atom.

It's best not to dwell on them too much. The first couple of dozen times that I reset, the mental strain of dying in increasingly horrifying and violent ways, coupled with the knowledge I was about to face it _again_ had gotten to me, and I had gone… insane.

Hysterically laughing, hysterically crying, trying to commit suicide by Eldritch Abomination…

Yet humans have the truly extraordinary ability to get desensitized to _everything_ , even to insanity and their own cruel deaths, if exposed long and often enough.

Several resets after I had gone through all stages of Grief regarding… well, _myself_ , I had managed to claw myself to sanity again, though I noticed that, for a while, I had become unnaturally focused and cold, as if to offset my earlier manic bursts of raw emotion.

' _God, that was a horrible period in my life-death cycle. Thank heavens I'm not insane anymore!_ ' I happily think to myself, before bringing taking _Harpe_ out of the immense bonfire I had built, gleefully biting into the roasted tentacle that I had speared on its bladed tip.

' _Yup! Completely sane now!_ ' I proudly reaffirm as I chew the rubbery flesh.

Honestly, Eldritch Abomination doesn't taste as good as you would expect, but… well, there's literal mountains of the stuff lying around and mother always said "waste not, want not!".

All in all, despite the sub-par food, this is turning out to be a rather nice pick-nick, considering the peace and quiet and the pretty colors overhead.

Sure the smell of the rotting corpses is absolutely horrendous, but you get used to it after a few decades. And I do mean "realtime" decades. This is the longest time that I've been alive in this dimension so far.

Dormammu seems to have gone for a different tactic this time around: when I reset and threw _Harpe_ at his face he… disappeared.

Poof! Gone. Just like that.

I was all set and ready to throw myself into the remains of his army, or at least the remains of the forces that he had around this portal. Experience had taught me that what I had been facing and steadily killing off all this time was only a small part of Dormammu's total forces, which he could bring in from anywhere in the Dark Dimension.

But, to my surprise, they all turned tail (wherever applicable, of course) and fled, leaving me alone in a vast void.

Since I have absolutely no way to navigate the Dark Dimension, I decided to simply sit here and wait for something to happen or for an enemy to show up. Not knowing what Dormammu was up to was making me nervous at first: maybe he was off to charge some powerful ritual where I couldn't interrupt him, so that he could break my time-loop?

As "time" wore on though, I started to relax a little, realizing that, if _Strange_ , a mortal human, could persevere and force Dormammu into submission, then so could I. So, I sat, and I waited and once the rations stored in my Aurelion Armor ran out, I started eating the corrupted flesh around me, making sure to always roast it in my Chi-fire first.

That seemed to remove any and all taint from the flesh, thankfully, since I kept a close eye on the energies within my body, mind and soul and could not find even a _hint_ of corruption in any of them. It would seem that bathing the meat in my own, Light-attuned energies purged their Dark energies.

 _Unfortunately_ , it also purged all the taste from it as well.

Sigh.

Oh well.

And with that, I happily take another bite, before the sound of movement catches my attention.

Over the many, many, many, _many_ "years", my abilities have grown considerably. Not just my proficiency with the Infinity Stones, but also the fledgling abilities that I had developed through my close interaction with them.

Continuous practice during life-or-death (or… you know, death- _and_ -death) stakes had evolved my rather weak psychokinetic powers to levels equaling the greatest the Jedi or Sith had ever seen. Pure raw strength with impeccable fine control. I could throw (part of) a building with just my mind, but also calibrate nano-machinery just by looking at it intensely.

The ability that I developed from the Power Stone was one with a lot of potential, but one that I initially had trouble manifesting and nurturing: the ability to absorb and redirect energy. The first time that I tried it on one of Dormammu's massive attacks… well, only my skeleton remained, before I reset.

But I just kept on trying. First, I was successful with the smaller energy-based attacks that his army grunts sent me, such as a spider-wasp hybrid creature that shot lasers out of its bulbous tail-end. I had managed to catch that attack with my bare hand, the energy sinking into my skin instead of blasting my arm off.

Of course, then it destabilized _inside_ of my body, triggering another reset, but I started working on that till I could safely absorb small amounts of energy, store them and then shoot them outwards again, mostly by practicing leeching power from the Infinity Stones. I found that blasting them from my mouth worked best, probably due to my experience as a human flamethrower.

I honestly can't wait 'till I get back to Earth so that I can start absorbing solar energy, see what that does to me. I doubt I'll turn into a Kryptonian right away, but with Peter's and Ego's Celestial DNA… the possibilities were endless.

And all I had to do for these power-ups was literally get torn to shreds several hundred times!

What a deal!

Right, back to the "present". Because of my increased psychokinetic abilities, my Spidey Sense extended to a radius of over several dozen feet around me, so once I heard the sound of movement, I extended my sixth sense in order to find the intruder, kind of like a bat using echolocation.

Feeling movement several feet off to my left, I come to my feet as I rip off the tentacle from _Harpe's_ blade, before hurling the scythe at the intruder.

Said intruder rounds the corner of a mountain of worms covered in varying types of eyes, but instead of being struck in the chest by my flying weapon it raises a slim arm and the _Harpe_ remains suspended in mid-air.

I'm somewhat surprised when I get my first good look at the humanoid that has approached my camp. It's roughly the same size as me (a hundred feet tall or so) and its face is _very_ familiar.

The shifting face of Dormammu disdainfully looks from the scythe in his mental grasp to me and back again, before he sends _Harpe_ flying towards me at a reasonably slow pace, handle first so that I can easily catch it, before he crosses his arms over each other.

For a moment, silence reigns between us as I watch in confusion as he stands there fuming in his (relatively) tiny form, apparently struggling to get some words out which he _really_ despises saying.

When he does speak though, I can barely contain my laughter.

" **Hyperion… I have come to bargain.** "

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** In Marvel's Earth-616 continuity alone, Jean Grey, a founding member of the X-Men and better known as (Dark) Phoenix, has died fourteen times. Mind you, that's _only_ the mainstream continuity.

 **AN:** Alright, I'm cutting it off here, since we're already 11k words in. This concludes the Demonic Invasion Arc. Next chapter(s) shall be in Interlude form, showing how the world and several of the characters deal with the aftermath of this Invasion. I think it would be amazing if you could send in your suggestions for possible POV's or even better yet, write them yourselves and send your work to me! You'll get full credit in the story of course, like with the Interludes by SIDoragon! I'm really looking forwards to your contributions! :D Right on the heels of the Interlude(s) will follow a chapter in which we can see Michael get his hands on the last scientists and power-ups that he wants as he starts preparing for the Endgame. Then the Convergence Arc will happen, meaning that the focus of the story will shift towards Asgard. And after that Arc… the final piece of the story. The Thanos vs. Hyperion Arc. So, I hoped you liked this chapter, and there's a lot of cool stuff to look forwards to! (No Shuri anymore, _thank God_ ) Also, this story surpassed 1 MILLION views! Woohoo! So… yeah, cheers!

 _All of my thanks and gratitude to my lovely patrons! IronmanMarkIV, justlovereadin, Shaman95, Daniel Dorfman, Carn Krauss, DoctorTortoise, Sam, Thordur Hrafn, DavidJP, ReaperScythe, CJ Elsen, Devon, Khamalpreet Singh, Kyle Reese, RLStrained, Kahn, Vu, Roman Krupkin! Thanks so much!_


	48. Interlude 9

_**Interlude 9**_

* * *

 **By Stratagemini**

* * *

Bear Necessity (Day One)

Katherine couldn't see anymore.

She wanted to stop crying, but she couldn't. Her tears wouldn't stop.

Not after what happened.

Not after what she did.

The day had started out perfectly. The weather had taken a break from the heat wave that had been hitting the city. It had rained overnight so the air wasn't humid at all. The skies were blue, the birds were singing. It was the perfect day for a trip to the zoo. And since Kathrine _worked_ at the zoo, every day was a perfect day for a trip to the zoo. It started just after 1:30. She knew because she'd been dressed in her heavy waders, just finishing up the sea lion feeding in the central garden. April had been on her best behavior, she was well trained by now, but Katherine usually had to be on the look out in case the 300 plus pound sweetheart decided she wanted to steal some extra fish. The crowds always loved that, but it was bad for her training.

Katherine had just finished answering questions from a class of what looked to be eight year old kids when the sound came. A strange distinctive sound she knew she'd heard before but couldn't place at the time. A repulsor beam. She'd heard it on the news, but it wasn't something she knew by heart. She hadn't heard it enough to make the connection to danger. It sounded almost like a jump cart at a hospital charging up followed by a whoosh. It didn't shout danger like an explosive. She didn't think she needed to run.

She'd walked over to the penguin exhibit. The next feeding wasn't until 2:30, but between the gentoos, the chinstraps, and the king penguins, she needed to start work on the fish pretty much right away.

It was a short walk, and she took her time doing it. She smelled like fish already, so there was no real point in getting in an enclosed space faster than she had to, and the back room with the metal table that opened into the chinstrap exhibit always smelled pretty strongly of fish.

The first indication that something was wrong had been the literal flaming demon that had been launched over the horizon to land in front of her. It was dead, but the fire was still smoldering.

Katherine's heart caught in her chest. Today was the one year anniversary of the one day war. She'd seen it when she checked the news on her phone on the train ride into The City. Was... were they out for revenge?

No. This didn't look at all like the invaders did. This looked like a demon. Maybe it was a new super-villain? Or a superhero? It looked threatening, but then so did Hyperion. It probably wasn't another invasion. Her mind was leaping to all the wrong conclusions.

The second indication that something was wrong was the literal fire breathing demon that attacked the 4-D theater, blowing up the Delacorte clock.

Katherine dashed into the Penguin exhibit and locked the door behind her. She needed to get into shelter. That was the plan that the zoo had for most disasters. Shelter in place. Anything big enough to hit the middle of Manhattan was either something you could outlast, or not something you could outrun. The superheroes would be here soon. They'd stop this. Everything would be okay.

She waited, huddled in the room for a minute. The walls were thick. She couldn't hear what was going on outside. The nervousness ate at her. Eventually she started preparing the fish for the chinstraps. It needed to be done, and if the world was being invaded by demons, literal demons, then there was nothing she could do to stop it. Leaving the building would only make her a target.

Katherine's curiosity wouldn't let her stay. The building was empty. She looked outside and her heart froze.

Fire.

The demons were gone, but the zoo was on fire. And the walls all around the park were now taller than the trees around her! Taller than the zoo buildings!

There were corpses everywhere. Children torn apart by claws. Police officers burned, to the point where if it weren't for the belts on their waists Katherine wasn't sure if she'd be able to tell if they _were_ police officers.

Shelter in place had worked, but Shelter in place wasn't a plan for fire.

Everyone hated the plans for fire.

You could grab some of the animals to evacuate them. Small ones. The penguins. Not the sea lions, certainly, but the Red Pandas, and maybe some of the lizards and Lemurs in the Tropic Zone Exhibit. Grab them and carry them by hand to one of the other affiliated zoos in the city. The Bronx Zoo had the most room, so that had always been the go to when they went over the plan.

It was messy, grabbing whatever animals you could and then booking it, but that wasn't why everyone hated the plans for fires.

Bending down, Katherine picked up one of the dead officers' guns.

The where the entrance to the park at the south was, Katherine could see the giant rocks and cars. They were sealed in. Trying to evacuate wasn't going to work. That left the other part of the plan.

Carefully, Katherine made her way west, hugging the side of the the penguin house. The gun felt familiar in her hand. She's handled them before, growing up in Texas, before she moved to New York. She undid the safety, well aware that the weapon in her hand was ludicrously under-powered for what she needed to do.

The Plexiglas barrier keeping the enclosure separate from the rest of the zoo was shattered and melted. The informational poster on the wall was burning merrily, noxious black smoke issuing from it.

Katherine didn't know if the tears in her eyes were from the smoke or from what she knew she had to do.

Small animals could be evacuated, big animals could not, and certain animals? Well, they had to stand close and make sure they weren't let out of their enclosures. And if they were?

There was a reason that Katherine had grabbed the gun.

The enclosure was occupied, but that didn't bring Katherine any relief.

On any normal day the exhibit in front of her housed two adult female grizzly bears, Betty and Veronica. Grizzlies could live for almost forty five years in zoos and the pair had only been rescued and brought to the zoo in '95.

Today? There was only one bear left.

Betty stood slumped over Veronica's body; she was bleeding heavily and one of her back legs couldn't support her weight.

Katherine raised her gun; both hands steady, legs spread shoulder width apart.

The wound might be survivable. They had excellent veterinary care in the Bronx. ... But the exhibit was open, and an animal was never more dangerous than when it was wounded.

Katherine's training was clear. There were some animals that couldn't get free; and with the park sealed off, help wasn't coming. Maybe Tony Stark could evacuate a wounded Grizzly Bear across half the city, but she couldn't. Betty weighed about six hundred pounds, if she encountered anyone else in this state? They wouldn't survive.

There was no choice.

 _ **CRACK**_

The gun was unfathomably loud as it jerked in Katherine's hands. She could see Betty's head jerk back as the shot hit home, but she couldn't take any chances. A six hundred pound bear could survive things that a human couldn't.

 _ **CRACK**_ _ **CRACK**_ _ **CRACK**_ _ **CRACK**_

Betty fell, lifeless on the rocks, one eye looking straight at her in what Katherine swore was a look of betrayal.

Katherine collapsed to her knees.

It had to be done.

The tears started to flow.

Katherine couldn't see anymore. Not after what she had done.

* * *

 **By Solusandra**

* * *

Defending Parents (Day One to Three)

Clair Temple studiously ignored the moans of pain and cries of loss around her as she worked to stitch up a gash on her latest patient. The kids from Columbia University had gotten away largely unscathed from the demon attack that hit the campus due to the timely intervention of Titan Solutions and their ' _heroines_ ' Lady Juggernaut and Jessica Jones, or Bia and Theia as the media were calling them, deities of Force and Sky.

"I'm guessing that internship and Landman and Zach's is probably a bust..." She looked down from the wound she was sewing closed to the patients eyes. His long hair had needed to be cut away for the 'operation' and charred ashen flesh scrapped off so it wouldn't infect the closed wound.

"Yeah?" she asked absently. "Classy place. If you could get an internship there, you could in most firms" she told the man. Distraction worked almost as well as anesthetic when you were running low, which this clinic was. Keep them talking, her nursing instructors had told her often enough. They don't notice the pain when they're unloading their problems on you. At least, so long as they don't move.

"Yeah, me and Matt. We were supposed to start at the end of the semester." He gestured up to the TV in the corner, showing the Avengers mowing down demons as they fought to move the line of containment back to the boarders of Central Park. "But that building, oh, its gone now. Just as well. It was depressing to look at."

"Everything's depressing when your world falls apart," she replied, tying off the thread. "Best form of prozac is a mission. You and... Matt, were going to become big-shot lawyers?" the black-Hispanic girl shrugs. "Lots of legal work to clean up after this mess. Any idea who's left standing?"

"Lots of little guys. Matt and I were planning to start our own place and help out the little guy in Hells Kitchen after we proved ourselves as Partners and made some seed money and reputation."

The nurse smiled. It was always nice to know she'd helped patch up a good soul rather than the usual thug. "And Matt?"

The man looked around, stretching right and left as he did so. "I don't know. He was supposed to be here with me. We were discussing the merits of which way to go. Foggy and Murdoc, avocados at law... heh."

~! #$%^&*()_+

Coleen Wing ducked below a flaming limb covered in claws, her eyes hard and sword coiled back to strike. Her opponent would not recover it's balance for the backhand though as she surged forward to stab her Katana through it's neck. Behind her rung the gong and hum of her surprise partner with his 'staff'. The blind man had saved her from a rogue pack of demons with a _stop sign_ of all things, using the torn metal first as an axe and then as a staff, giving her some much needed breathing room. She had no idea how the man did it, but he moved with her in almost perfect sync, covering her back and acting as distraction while she slew the raging hell beasts.

Blood soaked her hands, burning slightly as the creature fell to the ground, felled by her strike. Wrenching the sword out, she met the blind man back to back, and they shifted positions, as her smoking blade went to work on their next opponent. The pair of them flowed and struck holding off three attackers across the street from the fallback clinic as though they were part of a dancing team, and for just a moment, she let herself go, giving into the rhythm.

Then the blind man slammed into her back, his arms going wide as the pole was sliced in half by a blow.

As he fell though, her... partner(?) slammed the sharp shattered end into the forehead of the monster she had been whittling down. The flames died out in a fountain of blood and she recovered her own fall by bringing down her blade on the elbow joint of the fourth demon. Two and a half down, one and a half to go. Then Stark Drones flew by, destroying their remaining opponents with brilliant beams of force.

The pair slumped to the ground, side by side against the alley wall, breathing heavily.

"You alright?" Colleen asked.

"Yeah, you?"

She laughed, slightly hysteric. "Yeah. For the first time in a couple of years, yeah." She twists around and offers him her hand. "Colleen Wing, Kendo instructor."

He laughed. "Matt Murdoc, Law student."

She snorts. "Where does a blind law student learn to fight like that?" she asked, expecting a story similar to hers.

"When I was a kid, I lost my sight due to a chemical spill." he explained. "But it made my ears so sensitive I could hear a conversation down the block during rush hour. An old man taught me how to quiet my mind and use the sound like a radar. Echo-locating like a bat."

Colleen stiffened. "Your hearts beating erratically." Matt said. "You recognize him?"

"Probably Stick," she replied, starting the control exercises Bakuto had taught her so long ago.

"You know him?" Matt asked, pulling himself up and offering her a hand. "Perhaps you could deliver a message then?"

"I'd... rather not" she replied, cagily, "we're not on the best of terms."

"Abandoned you too, huh?" the man who was apparently not Chaste said, oblivious. "Ah well, I was just going to rant at him anyway. Tell him I was making something of my life despite him."

Colleen took his bloody hand in hers and... they glowed. The light was the same color as the demons flame but Matt didn't seem to notice. She squeezed as she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet and their hands ignited into flame. She could feel it in her chi, acting... not right, but Matt didn't even seem to notice. It felt like... rage and fear. But the rage wasn't hers, only the fear. They they let go and both light and fire died.

"Come on, let's get to the clinic. Not much we can do in this fight. Pack of four just about killed us, and from what I hear they usually swarm higher than that."

She huffed. "Then why are you out here?"

"Saving damsels in distress, you?" He asked, teasing in his tone.

She grinned. "Taking out anger issues as I run for my life." She sighs and looks toward the impromptu clinic. "And looking after my students. They only had bokken. I lost three."

"Well, you got the rest out, that's what counts."

With that, the pair of them walked towards the clinic, the asian girl trying to reignite her hands to only minimal effect. This would not be their last battle against the forces of hell as the city was evacuated.

~! #$%^&*()_+

Above the pair, another figure flew through the alley. The blind man was right, the demons usually swarmed in numbers much higher than four. This group had been accompanied by a flock of burning skeletal fliers. Alisa had only stopped to help them because she had shied away from sight of her daughter. The moment she had seen her little girl on the news, she had taken unsteadily to the air, a feeling of power that had given her such calm since first seeing Jessica on the television only a year ago.

But even the joy of the air wasn't able to sooth her passions this time. She had crushed the skulls of those fliers by tearing off a fire escape and swinging it around like a club and the tunnel vision had taken her again. It was the same reason she had backed off from seeing Jessica last time, after the One Day War. She was too volatile. The first time she'd tried, she'd tried to beat one of the Othyrs Guardsmen to death for denying her entry to 'temple'. The man, Charon's, own enhancements and the words of Dr Malus had saved him from her rage; but now she was almost afraid she'd harm her own pregnant daughter if she got too close.

But not afraid enough to back off entirely...

She needed sleep. She needed to calm down. She needed to see her daughter in person. To fight beside her. To protect her and her granddaughter like only a mother could.

~! #$%^&*()_+

Day 3.

Calvin Zabo hit replay on the youtube video for the 14 time. As the clip started, he stared hungerly at the screen. A girl in a black catsuit with silver gauntlets took a hit from a rocky volcanic man straight to the face, but instead of dying, the burning rocks of his arm sprayed across the grounds of the university, starting small fires everywhere. As the dust cleared, she stepped forward and kicked the magma gollum in the crotch, causing it to explode upwards in a fountain of fire.

Then the video became too shaky to see as the amateur videographer lost his grip on the Titan-tech phone. He hit replay and watched it again.

It was Daisy. It was his little girl... She was just as he'd imagined her for all the years of his search. Jaiying's face, but his nose and eyes. Her long hair unbound, her form athletic. She was perfect... and she had his savage side.

She had also awakened her powers. Which meant that Jaiying had probably found her. Calvin frowned and tried not to let his rage overwhelm him as he thought about what that meant. The effort was aided by intense feelings of shame. He had taken too long to find her. Of course Jaiying had not told him. He had failed her. Just as he had failed their daughter. The girl was obviously afterlife's spy in Titan Solutions. The nature of the organization allowed her to show off her powers in full display, and the might of Hyperion protected her...

But she was also in danger. _How could the mad titan let his daisy out into a war-zone!?_ _ **And why was he not there at her side!?**_

Breathe... Breathe, Calvin... Best not to fly off the handles at your daughters boss. Whatever his reasons, he could crush you like a bug with your meager enhancements and not let you see your daughter...

Yes. To see Daisy... He would go there now. He may not be of much use to her in this situation, but he was strong and good with guns, espionage and acting. He would help her, gain her trust, get into Othyrs, and then he would reveal himself. It would be a tearful reunion, and one long overdue. Yes. That was how it would go. And he'd have a long train trip to Iron out the details.

And perhaps call his wife, if he wasn't too hurt by then.

* * *

 **By Solusandra**

* * *

Delivering Punishment (Day Three to Six)

"Leave is canceled, boys! We're being called home."

William Russo looked up from his bunk in the... you could hardly call this tent a barracks, but he had no better word for it. "You're serious Major? We've only been in operation a month. I thought this new Unit was important."

"It is." Major Schoonover replied, in his command voice. "Or it was, until three days ago. The CIA Liason running this mission, Agent Orange, has died in New York, along with another forty agents of the bureau during an all hands situation. But that hardly matters."

"Couldn't a happened to a finer piece of shit." a voice called from the back of the unit.

Schoonover glared at them and barked "stow that, Gunner. Have some respect for the dead. You're about to see plenty of them!" He turns back to the rest of the unit. "Three days ago the anniversary celebration of the one day war drew crowds to the big apple. I'm told the reconstruction by Stark and Hyperions pissing contest was a sight to behold." He drew in a massive sigh. "Unfortunately, it seems the day was significant in another manner. Another portal opened, this time spewing aliens that likely spawned the myths of Hell. Their entry point, rather than Stark Tower, was the Central Park Zoo. You boys are being tapped now for the same reason you were tapped for Cerberus. You're the best of the best, and we're mobile. I want this barraks broken down in 3 and ready for extraction in 4. Any Questions? No? Heave to!"

"Shit,.. shit, man..." the teams co-leader Frank Castle, paced beside his rack. "Henley, you still got that contraband sat phone?"

"Yeah, man, just... don't freak out. Lots of us got family went to that shindig. Major'll give us shit if..."

"I don't CARE! _Hand it over!_ "

The soldier, built like a wall, stared down the much smaller frank for all of 10 seconds before lifting his foot and removing the false heel. "We gotta get to work, if they don't answer, don't panic. Could be lotsa reasons, chief."

Franks family didn't answer.

Four hours later, they were on a modified Hercules picking up another unit, and word came through that another portal had opened, unleashing the imagination of H. P. Lovecraft. Of everybody on the modified supersonic transport, only Frank appeared calm.

The icy calm of winter. The calm before the storm.

Day 6.

Frank Castle and Billy Russo stood on the battlements around Central Park, special forces from all the militaries branches spread out around him. Tanks, IFV's and... weirder things provided by Stark and McCole thundered beside them as his unit steadily took pot shots at the milling swarm. The Demons would come in waves mostly, and while concentrated fire from swat could bring most of them down, the one thing that seemed capable of putting them down like it should was the M82 Barrett Anti-material rifle. Frank drilled one that looked like a cross between a gorilla and preying mantis through the eye and watched for a second as the thing screamed and flailed, spewing fire and bladed limbs everywhere.

He'd missed. It was more effective than a clean kill, the demon was doing more damage to it's own pack than a clean kill would have, but the angle had been off and the large depleted uranium round had failed to penetrate. Gritting his teeth, he scanned the attack for a better target before being distracted by a screech from above.

Perfect.

Though the two alien forces seemed to be working together to cause this city nothing but misery, they tended to work cross purposes a lot. This one for instance, the gas bag some of the guys who'd been here longer called it, looked somewhere between a pregnant mosquito and a giant squid, would come around from time to time to spray acid and corruption on the defenders. Even chances you'd melt, burst into flame, become a horrible monstrosity or get black eyes and start shooting your friends. But they were also vulnerable and slow moving. Shoot one and it was liable to explode. Shoot it at the right moment...

He and billy seemed to have the same idea, as they both fired at once, causing the thing to turn into a ball of blue, black and green fire which fell upon the hell beasts burning the burning beings alive. Because of course it did.

Castle heard a click in his headset, "Central Park South, 13 needs resupply, ammo low." Schoonover calls in his ear.

"Ah... got it." comes the nervous reply. Behind Castle, there's a rush of air and then the fat kid is back, Bobby 'whizzer' Coleman. Good kid. Kinda odd. But the, what do you expect from a hero who's too afraid of his own power to fight? He kept everybody supplied though. Moved injured further into the city for medical. Even helped in search and rescue, pulling squads out of tight spaces around the city when some pack escaped the perimeter and it went badly. He'd have to remember the speedster when this was over.

Turning back to the tableau, Frank Castle continued shooting.

Then, the sky fell.

* * *

 **By Solusandra**

* * *

Slaughter at the Sanctums (Day 5)

The Sanctum was a charnel house. Bodies lay everywhere from a battle than had gone on for most of a day and dragged much of the city of Hong Kong into the fray. The positives, T'Challa decided, was that with Murakami's ninja flooding the battlefield, the Demons were no longer able to invade Hong Kong and London through their connections to the sub-dimensional building in New York, where the fighting was heaviest. The Invasion was focused there, a portal to Hell underneath Central Park, a portal to the Dark Dimension up in the sky above Manhattan. When demons had begun rampaging through what was supposed to have been the Memorial Day of the One Day War, the wizards had gone to battle en masse, leaving only a few defenders to guard the Sanctums.

As they quickly found out, that had been a grave mistake.

All three Sanctums had been simultaneously attacked, and T'Challa had quickly managed to find out who the culprits were. After that horrible night where he had first seen Shuri again, he had spent every waking moment trying to dog Sowande's heels. He had let out an agonised roar of frustration when he later found out that Shuri and Klaue had split from the ancient warlord's groups, but without any other leads or options, T'Challa had been determined to stick as close to Sowande as possible, in the hope that the immortal would eventually group back up with his allies again, leading the Black Panther back towards his sister.

That had lead to a chase across three continents, from the heart of Africa, all the way to Hong Kong, Southern China. It was why he was here in the Hong Kong Sanctum, fighting along Loyalist and Ursurper War Dogs, a sect of ninja warriors called the Chaste, an a section of ninja warriors belonging to Murakami of the Hand, against the demons of Hell, the demons of Dormammu, the terrorists of the Mandarin, and the combined ninja and mercenary forces of Sowande, also of the Hand.

There had been a lot of confused shouting involved before everybody was filled in on who exactly they were supposed to be killing, before the slaughter resumed.

He had received a _very_ brief rundown of the current situation and different sides from an old, blind man who called himself Stick, who had quickly identified the various opposing forces and their respective masters before he had sprinted off into the chaotic melee with a speed that belied his age and disability. Klaue and Shuri were nowhere to be found, however. Either they had gone to the New York Sanctum together (T'Challa tried his best to ignore the thought that his little sister had literally unleashed Hell onto the world, but he wasn't very successful) and the Mandarin to London, as he had only arrived to the battlefield a few days ago, or Shuri and Klaue had split the New York and London Sanctum between them.

Sensing an an attack coming before he even saw it, T'Challa ducked under a gibbering tentacled horror, before unleashing the kinetic energy his suit had been absorbing over the last minute into it's stomach and launching it towards where a trio of Chaste were fighting back to back with Murakami's ninja out of sheer desperation.

The maddening creature splashed across their foes, fighters from the Ten Rings backed up by burning demons from Hell. The demons died as the mixing evil energies tore each other apart. The humans were less fortunate. Some melted, others went up in flame, and the rest turned on each other as dark force and hellfire infected them, driving the terrrorists berserk. The Black Panther and the Hand ninja (those who were tentatively on his side) cut them down while they were distracted before stumbling back, panting. With the most immediate threat ended, the three sides, Chaste, both factions of War Dogs and Murakami's ninja, eyed each other in a tense standoff.

" _You help us!_ " T'chala barked in japanese, " _Why?_ "

" _The Master was not happy. Sowande has gone too far: his plans will bring doom to all! Besides, he has something that the Master wants._ " One of the red robed figures replied, holding his sword out in front of his fellow black clad ninja " _We can go back to killing each other when they have resolved their differences._ "

The man whirled around as two of his followers were impailed from behind. "Yeah, no. I say we kill you now, Nobu." A female voice called out from behind the corpses. The ninja fell to reveal a slender woman with regal features, which Stick had identified as his protege. The unknown woman and the man apparently called Nobu immediately rushed each other, twin Sai meeting Kusari Kama in something approaching either a dance or a blender, T'Challa couldn't tell.

"War dogs!" the panther barked, causing half of the five nearby to stiffen, "Sowande and the Mandarin are still here! Deeper into the Sanctum! FIND THEM!" This time all five acknowledged his order and turned to obey. The two Chaste warriors were about to join Electra against Nobu, but were grabbed by the back of the necks by Wakanda's champion and thrown after the War Dogs. "If what Stick told me is true, then the girl can handle herself. We have bigger problems." The pair of fighters looked at each other, about to break ranks and attack their temporary ally, but T'Challa blurred forward, purple energy crackling over the surface of his suit and the mask flowing up to cover his sunken tired face in an intimidating impersonal mask and they backed off.

"Fine. The Black Sky can fight Nobu on her own. But next time we see him, we take his head, Panther!"

The three of them rushed up the steps, not noticing how Elektra stumbled on hearing their words.

~! #$%^&*()_+

" _Yes,_ " Nobu sneered deflecting one of the Sai while turning to the side to dodge another. " _You heard your friends correctly. You are the Black Sky. The weapon we have been hunting. The tool that will counter the Iron Fist and allow us to return home._ "

"Never!" Elektra snarled, increasing the speed of her strikes. Sparks flew and long, thin gashes began to appear on Nobu's skin, despite them moving fast enough that the approaching ninja couldn't even follow them.

" _The Black Sky is a bloodline. Rare, and powerful. You are driven to kill. It is easy. You are stronger, faster, your reactions unparalleled, any weapon you touch comes naturally and you strike men down without thought, remorse or being trained to do so. Stick knew this. Stick_ _ **exploited**_ _this. After you slaughtered your training camp, he placed you with the Natchios so we could not find you again, reintroducing you to the Chaste only after they had forgotten your deeds._ "

"Why are you telling me this?!" the woman shrieked, throwing all caution to the wind, simply plowing through his attacks with pure force and raw anger. She landed on top of him, her Sai millimeters from Nobu's wide open eyes.

He smiled, and in his eyes Elektra could see the man accepting his death. " _Because we are the Hand. We live and die to serve you, Black Sky._ " With those words, the circle of Ninja who had entered the room during the fight lowered their weapons and knelt in unison, offering their blades to her.

~! #$%^&*()_+

Stick, three floors up, heard the fight and its conclusion and swore. Sweeping his opponents legs out from under them, Stick extended the Staff of the Living Tribunal, launching himself backwards into the air. Spinning he tried to bring the immense energies of the artefact down on the floor, trying to create a quick route down to his pseudo-daughter, only to be caught in mid air by a telekinetic grip.

From what little he knew from his lessons about the Masters of the Mystic Arts and the powerful artefacts that they so jealously guarded within their enigmatic Sanctums, wielding said artefacts should have been as dangerous to him as it was to their enemies. The various enchanted items had a level of sentience to them: the weapon chose the wielder as much as the wielder chose the weapon.

Most of the artefacts had been taken already anyways during their great offence against the Armies of Hell in New York. That had been nearly five days ago now, and only a handful of wizards had retreated from the battlefield in order to check on the Sanctums. Apparently the situation over there was bad enough that they couldn't be spared in order to retake their precious Sanctums, but as an alternative, the various weapons had almost eagerly jumped into the hands of the defenders, be they Chaste or War Dog.

Not that that really helped him now, Stick noted with mounting frustration, fighting against an invisible hold on his body.

"I think not." a cultured voice intoned darkly. "Electra is exactly where she needs to be, as are you."

It took Stick a few moments to recognise the voice of the one who had him at his mercy.

"Mandarin! I should've known that you'd crawl back to your remaining masters! Begging for scraps again? Desperate for more of their secrets as they keep stringing you along?" The ornery blind martial artist grumped. "Ten oversized pieces of jewelry not enough for you?"

"Well, no, actually." the man replied pleasantly. "But they're more than enough to defeat you." A portal opened behind the Mandarin, probably one of the few remaining wizards here trying to get a sneak attack off. But the descendant of Genghis Khan merely gestured with his hand, blasting through the hole with beams of force and lighting. There was a brief cry of pain from the other side, before the portal snapped shut again, leaving Stick alone in the hallway with the Mandarin. "Shall we continue?"

"Bring it on _._ " Stick spat. Then his milky blue eyes widened and he turned to run again.

"Where ar..." The wall behind the Mandarin _exploded_.

As Stick made his retreat downstairs, The Mandarin turned, raising his hands as if to shield himself from the flying shards of wood and flame. Where normally this would be a futile effort, one of the rings suddenly shone like a star on his finger with an amber light, covering him with a bubble of pure force.

A dark from impacted against his shield, forcing him back several feet, before it slid off the glowing construct, its misshapen body glowing with lines of fire as its limbs continued to twist and expand. The leader of the Ten Rings swiftly gestured with his hands, and another ring showed with a dark light, which drank in the fire around The Mandarin and flooded the stairwell and the creature with darkness. It didn't seem bothered by the sudden drop in invisibility, merely scrabbling to its twisted feet as it rose above the darkness and screamed. For a moment, man and monster stared each other in the eye, before the creature bellowed fire at him with Sowande's face.

"I see you and Murakami have finished your argument then." the Mandarin commented dryly, the same darkness from before swirling up to swallow the wall of fire whole. "May I ask what prompted this, my Lord?"

From the hole in the wall that (what used to be) Sowande had made, approached a Japanese man in business casual, though his presence was anything but. " _I have long been fascinated by the transformation of Alexandra prior to her death. I believe you were there._ " The man replied in clipped Japanese, twirling an empty syringe between his fingers.

"Ah, yes, the Extremis." He asknowledged, batting aside another burst of flame with a vortex of air. In those frantic moments where the mansion in Malibu went up in flame, with ninja and nazi's battling each other while a half-dragon kept rampaging through the chaos, the Mandarin had only managed to secure a single vial.

As he didn't want to test the volatile serum on himself, but also didn't want to give such power to his underlings, he had kept it a secret from all his allies until he had managed to get into contact with Murakami. Sowande was too warlike and impulsive to be trusted with such power, and the Mandarin had no intention to face such a beast without the Ten Rings to protect him. Murakami, however, was far more level headed and the Mandarin was nothing if not loyal to his Masters.

Whoever his Master was at any given moment could of course chance depending on current (and future) circumstances. For now, allying with Murakami served his interests better than serving under Sowande. "Did you want him to die in a similar manner as Alexandra? Or did you have other plans for our erstwhile leader?" the Mandarin asked with a tight smile which betrayed nothing of his true intentions.

Of course it wouldn't: he was after all a rather brilliant actor.

The asian man grinned in response to his question. " _He wasted a great deal of the bone you acquired earlier this year. I felt we needed more. And with McCole blocking Alexandra's Midland Circle project... sacrifices had to be made. Considering his actions have jeopardized the entire world, including me and my forces, this should be a fitting punishment._ "

A tense silence fell between the two, broken only by the roars and shrieks of Sowande as the mutating man crashed into the walls and floor as he kept being rebuffed by the power of the Mandarin's Ten Rings. Murakami had nearly taken the Mandarin's head when the terrorist leader showed up at his doorstep, with an offer of alliance on his tongue and with a vial of Extremis in his hand. The Mandarin had been forced to quickly shove the blame for the Invasion on Shuri, Klaue and Sowande, stating that he had been forced to bow to Shuri's new gained superior power, and to Sowande's authority over him.

Murakami had accepted that the Mandarin couldn't have acted against the wishes of his Master, but he still felt that the terrorist leader was hiding things from him, and had resolved to not fully trust the Mandarin until he had truly proven his loyalty. Their stare down continued for a few moments until the Mandarin took a half step back, inclining his head in respect.

"I'm certain Sowande would have understood that, given time." The Mandarin replied tactfully, before turning to face Sowande again, this time hitting the growing dragon with a bolt of lightning leaping forth from one hand, and incinerating a Dark Dimension Horror that was forcing its way up the steps with the other. "And what is the status of _our_ relationship?" He asks, his Cloak of Levitation flaring, even though he tried to conceal his tensing for combat.

The effect was somewhat ruined by the jerking, halting motions of the Cloak. For all that it was merely a piece of enchanted fabric, it sure had a strong will of its own and it had made it abundantly clear that it did _not_ like the leader of the Ten Rings. It had even nearly dropped him on more than one occasion!

No matter, he would merely take this as an opportunity to hone the powers over the mind that his Rings had granted him.

The asian man smiled. " _Normally it would be a measure of pride to haul my prize away myself, but a dragon... I am no Iron Fist. Not yet... Aid me, and I shall consider your act of loyalty fulfilled._ "

~! #$%^&*()_+

Stick and T'challa ran into each other, almost literally, within moments of the old man's retreat. "Go downstairs, boy. You don't want anything to do with what's up there."

"Out of my way, Stick." The banished prince growled. "If you intend to break our alliance, do me that favor at least."

Stick huffed, and vaulted over the costumed crusader. "Be my guest, but your sister isn't here anymore, if she ever set foot in this place at all. I think you ought to know that there's a dragon on the loose up there. Might want to keep an eye on that. Men! Sowande's dead and Murakami's out of our reach for the moment. Move out!"

The two Chaste nodded, and quickly followed their commander back to the ground floor. The three of them left wakandan's to sort out their own fracturing peace and took the steps three at a time. Stick felt his heart hammering in his chest as he moved as fast as he was able to. He had to get to Elektra before he lost her and by the sound of it, that wouldn't be long.

God damnit, they'd been WINNING the war! Gao, Bakuto and Reid's branches had all been dismantled, sometimes even before the Chaste had had a chance to act, taken out by an enemy in the shadows whose identity Stick could only guess at. Sowande had been on the run ever since that boy took the throne in Wakanda and started cleaning house all over Africa with his War Dogs, which had _finally_ given the Chaste the opportunity to start pressing Murakami's organization. And then this... _disaster_ completely took everyone by surprise and humanity was left fighting for its survival.

 _Again_.

Except this time, Hyperion was nowhere to be found. Until he came back from wherever the fuck he had buggered off to, it was up to the rest of humanity to beat back the invading demons and close off their advance. This fight was supposed to continue that. Thankfully, with Murakami as the only Finger left that was unopposed by another party, the Chaste had been concentrating their forces within the area when the lunatics had blown up the Sanctums, released Dormammu, let Demons flood New York.

Things were going to shit: Stick would be _damned_ (maybe literally) if he would allow _this_ to go to shit as well and he poured on even more speed as he came to the bottom of the stairs, vaulting over where a terrorist and a War Dog were wrestling each other on the floor, immediately making a sharp left turn the moments his boots met polished marble.

Within moments, Elly was in view. "Don't do it girl!" he called out.

Elektra turned from the bowing asian men and the circle of protection they were holding against the demons, tears in her eyes. "Did you know?"

"Yes," Stick replied, gravely, decreasing his frantic pace to slow heavy footsteps. A creature made of flame and wings tried to descend on him, but he smacked it out of the way with the Tribunal without looking away from Elektra's direction. "So did you, you just didn't want to know."

Elektra began shaking, "It all makes sense. That's why they all hated me. Why everybody hates me... in the end."

"Get that shit out of your head, Elly." He growled. "Remember what I taught you."

" _Ignore him, Black Sky. He betrayed you. This is your chance for revenge. Kill him and we will give you everything he never did. Your destiny, your lover_ _and life beyond age or death._ " Nobu quickly spat over his shoulder, even as he gracefully twisted around a smaller imp-like creature, taking its head off with a single swing.

"He's lying to you, Elly..." Stick countered. "Focus like I taught you, listen to his heart. The Black Sky is an empty vessel, not a person. You go with him, you won't get those things because you won't even care."

" _He is jealous of your power. Afraid of what you would do with it. The war is all he lives for. Kill him!_ "

"SHUT UP! Both of you! I'm not some kid you can order around!" Elektra screamed as she sunk to her knees, clutching her head hard enough that the tips of her fingers turned white.

There was a flash of light and a clap of thunder and the Black Panther came flying down the stairwell over the battlefield, disappearing down an adjacent corridor and a voice rang out.

" _Bakuto had some odd ideas over the years, but there is one thing he has always said that I have come to find is true: it's painful raising children. we spend our lives teaching them to be strong, to be independent, not realizing that once we achieve that they are no longer under our control._ " Murakami strode down the stairs calmly, dragging a twisted and glowing form behind him by the horn while the Mandarin floated above him, two rings glowing like stars on his fingers. " _You're right, girl. The choice is yours. The Chaste can no longer control you. They couldn't for quite some time._ "

The two Chaste that had been following Stick down the stairs, turned around, one of them charging forward with a spear that crackled with lightning while the other drew a bow the glowed with red light, both one of the remaining few artefacts of the Sanctum which had willingly chosen Masters to aid in the defence of their home. Murakami cupped his free free hand in a claw, twisted his stance with sufficient strength to crack the boards underneath his feet and shoved his cupped palm forwards with a barked yell of effort. Struck by his Chi, the fighters were blown back off their feet in a ripple of air. " _You know where to find us when you've decided which future you want._ _ **Men! Form ranks! We're leaving!**_ "

With that pronouncement the entire battlefield shifted. Murakami's ninja left their positions beside the War Dogs and Chaste against Sowande's mercenaries and the Ten Rings soldiers. But instead of a new frontline forming, Sowande's mercenaries suddenly found themselves bereft of allies rather than reinforced by the turning of the tables as Murakami's ninja quickly moved to stand besides the Mandarin's terrorists. Caught between their Demonic 'allies', the two new alliances and the remaining Masters of the Mystic arts, they were quickly torn apart. The chaos wasn't helped as the wizard tore open portals all over the battlefield at a moments notice as they killed their enemies at moments of opportunity and reclaimed their pilfered artefacts, before closing them just as quickly.

In the middle of the storm of activity, Elektra was undergoing a mental breakdown, and unfortunately for her, there were no attackers for her to focus on. A lone girl, holding her head in the middle of flying blood and undiluted chaos? Only Stick would have had the time to talk to her, and he was engaged in furious combat with Nobu. The ninja would obey his master's wishes and allow the Black Sky to choose her own future, but he refused to let that decision be influenced by his hated enemy. Elektra finally found a direction when the Black Panther brushed roughly past her, shouting for his War Dogs to leave through the New York entrance.

New York. Yes. Matt would be there. Seizing on that thought, Elektra Natchios, the Black Sky, vanished amongst the tumult.

* * *

 **By Stratagemini**

* * *

A Scenery of Greenery (Day 6)

Samuel Smithers stared. The tree was still there. Still moving. Still... well, not alive? It certainly was alive, but so were most trees. Still sentient?

"I am Groot."

Still talking. That was the thing, wasn't it? Sam had always believed that plants had the potential for sentience, for communication! That's why he'd joined the central park conservatory in the first place; to take care of the plants in the largest man-made park in the city. The world? Probably, the world. The park was bigger than some countries! Monaco came to mind, but there were probably others too... And he got to help tend and protect it! At least, until the invasion. The second invasion, since the one day war didn't actually touch the park.

It made sense, of course. The talking tree that was. The Groot? Were there more of them? Hyperion was known to do genetic engineering. The fire breathing dinosaur that fought in the one day war was proof enough of that. Why wouldn't he make a giant anthropomorphic tree? Sam would, if he had Hyperion's money. He'd been toying with the idea for years, if he was perfectly honest. Not seriously; just... as a thing to do. A Hobby.

Everyone else he'd spoken about his hobby had called it... well, crazy. But... there it was, walking near him, in all it's beautiful flowering, moss-covered glory as it reached out to touch each individual tree with an almost wilted expression on its face as it muttered "I am Groot." to each one.

The fact that it had a face was almost an afterthought to Sam. Of course he'd have a face.

The tree's vocabulary was more puzzling.

"I am Groot."

Why just those three words? Sam had thought that the tree was introducing itself to its fellows, but that wasn't it at all. There was a sadness to it, almost melancholy. There was more to it. It was almost... mourning.

Sam wanted to talk to the Groot, to cheer it up, but... this wasn't the right time. Still, to know that he wasn't alone in his hobby! That a billionaire like Michael McCole shared it! That was... Sam had no idea how to even put the joy that gave him into words!

Maybe... Just maybe it was time to get more serious about his hobby?

* * *

 **AN:** Major thanks to both Stratagemini and Solusandra for writing these amazing Interludes! I think that they are really great and integrate well into the story :D The next chapter will be an Interlude from me, where I tackle different POV's such as the Avengers, SHIELD and various members of the world government, trying to show the impact not only of Demons invading, but also of Michael showing just how truly powerful he has become over the years. After that, the Convergence Arc and after that... Thanos. And with Thanos, this story will finally be in its Endgame. Also, check out To Hell and Back Part II! I have done some massive editing on that chapter, so go check it out and let me know if you like it better now! So... yeah, cheers!

 _All of my thanks and gratitude to my lovely patrons! IronmanMarkIV, justlovereadin, Shaman95, Daniel Dorfman, Carn Krauss, DoctorTortoise, Sam, Thordur Hrafn, DavidJP, ReaperScythe, CJ Elsen, Devon, Khamalpreet Singh, Kyle Reese, RLStrained, Kahn, Vu, Roman Krupkin! Thanks so much!_


	49. Interlude 10: If we could turn back Time

_**If we could turn back Time**_

 _ **To the good old days**_

* * *

Tony landed heavily on the grimy tiles of the roof of the nearest skyscraper, his balance thrown off when the repulsor in his left gauntlet briefly shorted out, before sputtering back to life again.

Having learned from his mistakes during the One Day War a year ago, Tony had made sure that he would be able to resupply in the field, switching out armor parts and reloading ammunition on the go. Still, the Arc Reactor was a highly complex piece of technology, and after six days of nearly continuous fighting, the wear and tear on his systems was starting to add up.

All that he could hope for was that McCole was succeeding at… whatever the hell he was doing on the other side of the portal, because he didn't know for how long he could keep fighting until he ran out of suits.

' _He's definitely doing_ _ **something**_ _, that's for sure. Actually, that's the_ _ **only**_ _thing I'm sure about right now.'_ The scientist thought to himself, staring up at the sky in mute wonder.

Blasting through Dormammu's airborne defenders with Hyperion and Hawkeye at his back had been exhilarating.

Witnessing the beam-o-war between Hyperion and a mountain of eldritch flesh had been both amazing and disquieting.

Seeing the forces of Dromammu after Hyperion hurled himself through the portal into the Dark Dimension was… confusing.

Tony watched silently as a flying creature flew by overhead in slow-motion, its sinewy body rippling in time with the strokes of its various wings, before suddenly it blinked a dozen feet forwards, as if someone had pressed skip on the remote. Then it simply hung there in the sky, completely frozen, before it blinked back to its original position and started flying forwards once more, once again moving in slow motion.

This creature wasn't the only one that acted… oddly. In fact, everywhere across the battlefield, everyone reported seeing the same thing happening to the other demons, though no demon appeared to be sharing the same pattern of time dilation and the time between resets seemed to be random in length.

"Jarvis?" Tony asked quietly, hoping that his closest friend could somehow make some sense out of this madness.

"Sorry sir. No idea." Jarvis replied equally quietly, and Tony easily picked up on the AI's hidden discomfort.

It wasn't often that _Jarvis_ was thrown for a loop after all.

As Tony allowed his sensors to start scanning his surroundings, hoping for a clue of any kind, two beings caught his attention. The first, and the most obvious, was the Leviathan that McCole had ridden in the One Day War and had subsequently captured and (apparently) tamed.

A regular Leviathan was already large enough to boggle the mind, but McCole had given his unusual steed a little upgrade in the form of Pym Particles. Meaning that it was now larger than most skyscrapers and its massive size caused a shadow to fall over parts of the city.

While the sight of it made Tony's hairs stand on end, he quickly realized that the monstrously large creature wasn't doing much of anything, really. It kept flying in wide circles without paying attention to anything in its surroundings, be it buildings or demons. Occasionally, a shudder would ripple down its impossible length and it would let out a keening noise, as if something had hurt it but it couldn't tell what or why. If anything, it looked… lost. Like a confused little puppy.

Berating himself for comparing a beast that could swallow a blue whale in a single bite to a little puppy, Tony instead focused on the second figure that he had noticed. It was smaller than Hyperion's Leviathan (then again, so was every other single thing on the planet) but no less eye-catching.

People tend to notice a flaming skeleton of a woman sitting on the flaming skeleton of a gargantuan T-Rex as they both stand atop a shattered skyscraper after all.

Tony's mind immediately leapt to solving both these new problems, happy to tackle something that at least made _some_ attempt at resembling sense again.

' _Given the papers that Othrys has published on Chitauri anatomy, and McCole's apparent control over it, I think it's safe to say that there's some mind-control component to the Leviathan's behavior. All the others died when they were disconnected from the Hive Mind, meaning that_ _ **this**_ _Leviathan is linked to some sort of alternative, meaning McCole's mind and the Leviathan are connected. With McCole in a different dimension, that link is strained at best. The occasional hints of pain probably show that McCole is struggling against Dormammu.'_

Not willing to pursue that train of thought any further, since it would only lead him to unproductive worrying about how the fight between Hyperion and Dormammu was going, Tony focused his mind on the flaming woman and her flaming skeletal T-Rex.

' _Appearance suggest familiarity with the Ghost Rider encountered during battle. 'Cause really, how many flaming skeletons can there be? … I might have jinxed myself asking that. Anyway, the clothing and the fact I found her near Hyperion and Sterns in a non-hostile situation suggest that this is actually Jessica Jones, also known as Theia. The T-Rex is also a pretty obvious identifier. I think her name was Susan or something. Jones' profile never mentioned her being able to turn into …_ _ **this**_ _. Same goes for the T-Rex. So, it happened during this battle, and the other Ghost Rider hasn't shown up since McCole arrived. Conclusion: Jessica Jones has inherited the power of the Ghost Rider of the previous host, but does not seem to share the same agenda. For now.'_

Having theories, and being a scientist at heart, Tony was about to go on to collect evidence to (dis)prove them by asking Jarvis to pull all available footage from the various drones all over the battle field concerning these two targets when various screens popped up on his HUD, pre-empting his question.

Sometimes, Tony wondered whether or not Jarvis had secretly given himself the ability to read his creator's mind. Not that Tony would've objected, but there was a lot of shit up there that could be a bad influence on a young, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed AI.

Putting the thought out of his mind and saying a quick "thank you" to Jarvis, Tony quickly looked over the high-light reel his friend had quickly slapped together. The evidence appeared to corroborate his theories, so now, all he had to do was…

… was…

… what, exactly?

Tony slowly came down from the adrenaline high his fight-or-flight response had put him on for the better part of a week as the realization began to set in. He could plan and theorize all he wanted, but he couldn't _act_. They couldn't even start picking off the demons while in their time-locked state: Jarvis had also included footage of soldiers unloading their magazines into a creature that seemed to be moving backwards through time, before it blinked out of existence and reappeared at the starting point of its loop, with no sign of the soldiers' attacks on it.

All they could do was _wait_. Wait and hope.

"… fuck."

"Indeed, sir."

For a moment, Tony merely stood on that roof, gazing up at the sky in silence, before he shook himself, his jaw clenching as determination returned to his eyes. Tony may be many things (and a lot of them weren't very nice), but if there's _one_ thing he wasn't, then it's being a quitter.

Quickly calling down additional supplies and armor parts from the various hubs in low orbit (and trying to ignore how many of them were running dangerously low on supplies), Tony called up several screens as he instructed Jarvis to retool the drones in order to do as many different types of analysis on the time-looped demons as possible. Meanwhile, he was looking through his ordnance and previous test-results of the portal itself.

Affecting the demons from _this_ side didn't seem to work, but perhaps hurting them on the _other_ side would do the trick. Clearly it was working for Hyperion, since his battle with Dormammu was affecting the demons here _somehow_.

What would happen if they sent the entirety of Earth's nuclear ordnance through the portal as well?

That would be their last resort though, considering their current best shot at victory was probably still fighting for his life on the other side, but Tony felt better at having at _least_ something in his arsenal to throw at whatever hostile horror that would end up coming out of that portal should the plan fail.

In the meantime, maybe sending smaller ordnance could work. Targeted missiles instead of WMD's. They couldn't hurt the time-looped demons, but the opposite was also true, meaning that they could move into position close to the portal without being harried by teeth, claws and bright beams of energy.

Tony already spotted several Quinjets moving in tighter circles around the portal, weapons hot and in tight formation, Barton leading in front. Someone over at HQ clearly had the same idea as he had.

They would hope for Hyperion's victory, but humanity was prepared to go down fighting on their own terms should the Titan ended up failing against Dormammu.

However, right as Tony was about to move several of his own gunnery platforms into position, the portal gave off a bright glaring light. Several alarms began chiming in Tony's HUD as some charts seemed to be going haywire.

 _Something_ was coming through the portal. Whatever it was (and Tony was desperately hoping it was McCole's stupid smug face), it was _powerful_.

"This is it boys. If it's anything else than Hyperion, then… then it has been a true honor to have been fighting alongside all of you. Thank you for your service to your country and to humanity. Carter out." Tony heard over his comms, and he, like every other defender still alive in New York, found themselves straightening their back, squaring their shoulders and taking a deep steadying breath.

Looking straight at the portal, even as the light became unbearably bright, Tony found himself softly whispering to the only person that could hear him.

"Jarvis. I-"

"I'm with you to the end, sir."

"… Thank you. Take care of Pepper. She'll need you."

"You have my word, sir."

The light was burning now, and Tony quickly looked away, seeing how the very air was distorting due to the powerful energies accumulating above the New York skyline.

"We've had a good run, you and me, haven't we?" Tony suddenly asked with a soft chuckle, even as his repulsors spooled up, their familiar whine a comforting sound.

"… the very greatest, sir. I couldn't have asked for a better life than the one I have lived with you." Jarvis said after a moment, his voice soft and clearly emotional

Seeing the portal bulge outwards, like a stomach heaving, Tony crouched, feeling the servos and actuators in his armor smoothly following every movement of his muscles. Tension and adrenaline rampaged through his body, and Tony noticed that he was gritting his teeth.

"This is it then."

As if his words had been the signal, the glow swallowing the portal seemed to condense into something more solid and then, without warning, coalesced into a beam of sheer light and power that _slammed_ downwards, crashing into the ruined remains of what once had been an office building.

The top fifteen floors of the building simply vanished, while a cascade of broken windows travelled down the entire length of the building in a visible shockwave of force, before it crashed into the ground, shaking the surrounding area and buildings. Tony felt the shock through his armor, and nearly stumbled. If it hadn't been for the stabilizers and dampeners in his armor, that would've easily thrown him to the ground.

The top of the building was surrounded in smoke and debris, hiding the arrival from view and yet there was no doubt in Tony's mind about the identity of the newcomer.

The Leviathan that did a U-Turn and barreled towards the broken building with an aura of relief and joy was a pretty good indication.

The way the new Ghost Rider visibly relaxed on top of her skeleton T-Rex, which gave out a happy bark, was another indicator.

But the biggest clue was every single remaining demon in the city freezing up and unceremoniously dropping dead, while the portal above twisted in on itself and disappeared into nothingness with a sucked-in crack that thundered throughout Manhattan.

The Invasion was over.

And as the dust settled and the sun shone upon his golden armor, his white cloak shifting lazily in the breeze, humanity saw the one that had saved them.

Hyperion had returned.

Despite his misgivings about the man, Tony couldn't quite contain himself and let out a whoop of relief as he pumped his fist.

"Yes! Fuck yes! Take _that_ demons! YES!"

From far below, Tony could hear similar cheers go up amongst the ragged defenders as the realization dawned on them as well. They did it. They won.

Focusing back on the man that had made it possible, Tony saw how Hyperion straightened from the crouch he had landed in, his one-hundred-foot-tall form overseeing the ruins of New York like a king surveying his lands.

Tony couldn't see the man's face, but there seemed to be an air of melancholy surrounding the enormous giant as he took in the destruction of New York. It was slightly alleviated by a hearty laugh from the Titan when the gargantuan Leviathan encircled him, rubbing its head the size of a large mansion against him like a dog greeting its owner after a long absence.

Hyperion responded in kind, vigorously scratching the enormous monster on its head-plate and on the side of its jaws, appearing completely unbothered by the multitude of teeth hovering dangerously close to his head, each one as long as a bus.

After a few moments of this, Hyperion's bad mood seemed to return when he straightened and looked up at where Jessica was sitting on top of Susan. Giving his Leviathan a few more pats on the head, Hyperion slowly floated up to the top of the building that Theia was perched on until they were roughly at eye level.

Despite the fact that the man now had lungs that were several meters long and vocal chords of several feet in length, Tony was unable to hear the conversation that followed between the two, though it seemed to get heated quite quickly, judging from the way that fire billowed out of Theia's empty sockets.

Even zooming in with optical scanners was of no use: Hyperion's face was hidden by his helmet and being able to lipread was pretty useless when the person you were trying to read didn't have lips in the first place.

All Tony saw was Theia's jaws clicking together furiously, as she bit out something at the enormous giant floating in front of her, who suddenly stilled completely in response. For a brief moment, Tony wondered what the hell that conversation had been about (and why/if the pair would come to blows despite the fact that they should be embracing each other after this miraculous victory. They certainly had done so last year).

Then Tony finally heard Hyperion's voice as it boomed across the battlefield.

" **Very well. Let's try this then.** "

While Tony was wondering what "this" was, Hyperion steadily flew upwards, until he was floating several hundred feet above the remaining skyscrapers. His massive Leviathan followed him, coiling its immense body behind him, floating in place. As Hyperion touched down gently on his massive steed's head, Tony grudgingly had to admit that one thing he couldn't deny about the thief and humanity's savior, was that the man had style and a flair for drama.

"Jarvis."

"Already on it." Came the smooth response, and a window opened on Tony's HUD.

It was video footage from a drone that Jarvis had sent to take a closer look, and Tony could clearly see how Hyperion moved his hands and wrists in odd, rhythmic patterns. As they moved, a small green light at the bottom of his neck grew in brightness, and Tony recognized it as the same amulet that had allowed Hyperion to reverse time on himself.

That had involved McCole being surrounded by a shimmering, translucent green glow. This seemed to affect a larger scale.

 _Much_ larger.

Spreading from Hyperion's position in the sky, a green glow started to cover _everything_ in sight. Every building, every road, every jet still in the air and every burnt-down vehicle on the ground. Tony couldn't see it, but he suspected the glow even went further underground, covering the metro stations and tracks.

It even covered Tony himself.

"What the-"

"Sir, massive spike in magical energy coming from Hyperion's amulet!"

Recalling the warnings the Ancient One had given McCole when he first tried this on himself, Tony felt his heart plummet when he thought about those risks when it concerned an entire _city_.

Despite rationally knowing that Hyperion couldn't hear him from this distance away, Tony still found himself desperately crying out and reaching towards the glowing figure up in the sky.

"McCole! DON'T!"

But it was too late. With a roar, Hyperion slammed his fists together, and Tony could almost feel the magic seep into his skin. Then the giant's hands separated, a circular array springing into existence between them. He immediately began to slowly turn his hands counter-clockwise along the casting circle. As the man's hands moved and the green light at his throat increased in intensity, a yellow light on his forehead burst into existence, as bright and blinding as the sun itself.

A tingling feeling that quickly worsened into a full-body itch quickly overcame Tony, but he was far too distracted by the feeling of falling down into an infinite abyss and the impossible view that his eyes were insisting was real and his brain flat-out refused to accept.

Because in real life, broken bricks don't suddenly jump up and form formation again, stacking up backwards until the building was whole again. Roads didn't shudder and flow back together again, fusing the cracks and tears until it seemed they were never there before. Glass didn't jump back to form windows again, water didn't suck itself back down busted fire-hydrants, flames didn't reverse themselves out of existence, leaving cars, buildings and trees unburnt and metal didn't unbend itself and buff itself back up to pristine state.

And yet, he kept seeing all that and more. He was even _feeling it_. The various cuts and scrapes that he had suffered during the Invasion didn't heal, but simply closed themselves back up, the flesh fusing back together to reveal unblemished skin. The bruises that littered his body disappeared like snow before the sun. He even heard his nose reset itself!

Even as the world went crazy and his senses betrayed him, Tony still managed to glimpse the burning form of Theia still up on her skyscraper. Whatever Hyperion was doing to the city, it didn't seem to agree with the Ghost Rider: the flames were intermingled with the soft green glow of McCole's spell and Jones seemed to flash in and out of her skeletal form, clutching her head/skull and screaming her head off.

Whenever she was flesh and blood again, a ghostly flame encircled her, clinging to her skin and hair, before it managed to sink back into her body again, turning her into the Ghost Rider and starting the cycle all over again.

There was no telling how long this psychedelic rollercoaster lasted. It might even be useless to ask 'how long' something lasts when Time is being messed with in such a way. All that Tony knew and cared about, was that the moment the universe stopped spinning, he pressed the emergency release button on his suit.

The various panels swiftly folded themselves away, allowing Tony to fall to his knees and throw up all over the pristine tiles on the roof of the building, rather than _inside_ of his helmet and armor (that had only happened _once_ so far during his career as Iron Man and as far as he was concerned it would _never_ happen again).

Crawling away from his own sick, Tony gratefully let himself roll onto his back, lying spread-eagled on the roof, staring up at the sunny sky as he panted in relief, thankful that the world was no longer twisting in on itself like a cosmic pretzel.

For now, he would just enjoy the smooth, cool, unbroken tiles under his back… unbroken?

His eyes snapped open, and despite the persistent nausea, Tony managed to stumble to the edge of the roof and look out over down-town New York. What he saw made him forget to breathe for a few moments as he took in the sight.

New York. But not the New York that he had lived, bled and fought in for this past week. Not the wasteland that seemed right at home in some pulp book set after the apocalypse. No burnt-out husks of vehicles lining the streets of dilapidated buildings on the brink of collapse.

But _New York_ as she was _supposed_ to look. A gleaming jungle made of concrete. A proud monument to human engineering and architecture. A city that sprawled from horizon to horizon and that dared to reach to the sky with fingers of steel and glass.

New York. Whole and hale again.

"McCole… the fuck did you do? And how the hell did you do it?" Tony whispered to himself as he turned to his left and saw the green of Central Park visible through the gaps in the undamaged skyscrapers and apartments.

" **I had really hoped that that would work. You are more stubborn than I had thought.** "

Hearing the deep voice of the man who had done in several minutes (or hours? Seconds? _Days_?) what ordinarily would've taken months to years, Tony shakily turned around to see Hyperion floating down and addressing the panting Ghost Rider.

For a moment, neither one spoke, before Hyperion continued, a tone of finality in his voice.

" **Very well, Spirit. Finish your vendetta. Punish those responsible for this. Then return my wife and child to me and I shall have a suitable replacement host ready for you. Our paths will divert then, and you had better be sure that they NEVER CROSS AGAIN OR YOU SHALL FEEL THE FULL EXTENT OF** _ **MY**_ **VENGEANCE.** "

While some small part of Tony's mind remarked that the line wouldn't have been out of place in some corny '80s action movie, the rest of Tony's mind firmly reminded that errant part of the fact that the line in question was said by a hundred-foot-tall giant who had decimated entire armies on his own.

 _Twice_.

Instead of being corny, the sheer _anger_ in the voice of the man who called himself Titan of the Sun (and most definitely seemed to have the firepower to back that claim) made a primal shiver of fear run down Tony's spine.

Even the Ghost Rider didn't seem unaffected by the tranquil rage of the behemoth in front of it, slightly shrinking away, before it gave a single nod. It whipped its chain around, creating a portal of its own, and it seemed to be in a hurry to leave through it on the transformed T-Rex.

Before it could do so however, Hyperion's voice halted it in its tracks.

" **And Jess? Be careful.** " The Titan said in a much softer tone of voice.

Once again, the Ghost Rider merely gave a nod, and with a slight shift of its legs, it sent the T-Rex running forwards through the portal, which snapped shut right behind them. Tony watched as Hyperion remained staring at where the Rider had disappeared, only broken from his silent contemplation when his Leviathan softly pressed its nose against him.

Turning away from the most powerful being on the planet and his pet, Tony looked back at the restored city of New York, before speaking up in a low voice.

"Jarvis?"

"All material things have been restored to the state they were in before the Invasion began." Jarvis answered promptly.

" _Material_?"

"All buildings, vehicles, equipment and structures are in pristine condition, sir. Including your armor: it sits at full ammunition and fuel capacity. The ground forces are reporting the same on their vehicles and weaponry."

"But?"

"… only material things have been reversed, sir. Including organic. Amongst the survivors, there are zero injuries. Thor has just reported that his arm has returned. Not grown back or healed, but _returned_. Whatever spell Hyperion used to turn back time, every single thing within the city has been affected. However, those who died… their bodies appear fine, but they have no heartbeat and no brain-activity. They remain dead."

"What? Why? If he turned back time to before the Invasion began, then we should _all_ be fine! We shouldn't even have any memory of the Invasion at all! And if humans are restored, then why the hell am I looking at a _green_ Central Park?! What makes plants so special that they get to come back and we don't?!"

" **Because you have souls, Stark.** " Came a deep voice from behind him and Tony whirled around, annoyed at himself when the movement made his head spin.

Standing on the rooftop a few dozen feet behind him, Hyperion shrunk down to his usual size (which meant that he still towered over Tony) as he approached him. His faceplate was folded away and Tony could see a heavy weight in the man's gaze as he looked out over the city he rescued.

He seemed physically in peak condition, but considering the party trick he had managed to perform on an entire _city_ , Tony suspected that it wasn't indicative of the wounds that McCole had suffered on the other side, fighting Dormammu and his armies.

And even then, _mental_ wounds were far harder to spot anyways.

Hearing the giant give a deep sigh, Tony suspected that Hyperion had received his fair share of mental scarring from this Invasion.

"Souls?" Tony asked, feeling that it wasn't the time or place to interrogate-, uhh, _politely ask_ the man about what he had seen in the Dark Dimension.

"Yes. All sapient creatures possess them. They can exist within you, or on a different level of existence all-together, in a way that mortal minds simply _cannot_ comprehend. Death is the most common way in which the soul travels from the former to the latter state of existence, but not always. _Where_ they end up… well, that's a complex question with a vast multitude of answers, some of which are contradictory and yet none of them are wrong. It is a question asked by almost all beings, ever since the dawn of time and very few have found the answer. Most have simply ascribed to the idea of a Good Place and a Bad Place, with your actions in life echoing in death."

Agreeing with himself that he would process the answers to questions that have caused religious wars throughout humanity's history, that were just _blatantly_ dumped into his lap, later at home with a sufficient amount of alcohol on hand and Pepper's embrace to curl up in, Tony came back to his earlier question.

"That doesn't answer why only the _bodies_ of the fallen have been healed. You reversed time to before the Invasion happened: to before their death! Their souls shouldn't be running off to God knows where, they should be back into their owner's bodies!" Tony shouted, trying to reconcile the surrealism of his current situation with his history and reputation as a scientist.

When he was still a little teenager at MIT, he never would've suspected that he would one day stand on the roof of a skyscraper and argue with a man who styled himself after the Greek pantheon to shove people's souls back into their bodies.

"Ah, I can see why you think I simply reversed back Time, even though such a task is anything but _simple_. While I _could_ do that, it would carry great risk with it. Not the least of which is giving Dormammu a backdoor into our world again. He perceives all time, and all _timelines_ , simultaneously. If I start making changes on such a great scale, there will inevitably follow a maze of paradoxes, parallel universes and both stable and unstable loops. _Somewhere_ in that mess of tangled Time, there will be an event, a timeline, in which I'm not here to stop him. He will consume the Earth from that possible future or parallel past and from there move on, like ink spreading through water, until the prime timeline falls, and with it, all realities, all possibilities. He will have won, utterly and completely, for all of time. At that point, he will always _have_ won, and always _will_ win. I cannot let that happen." Hyperion calmly replied, not even batting an eye at Tony's increasing horrified look.

"There must be _something_ you can do!" Tony yelled, and to his own embarrassment and annoyance, he faltered when the Titan's glowing eyes turned towards him from the corner of the giant's gaze.

"Indeed there is. And so I have. I will not take us back through Time. But I _can_ send Time back through _us_ , instead. The material make-up, all that makes you, _you_ , has been de-aged by seven days, except for your minds, which I have let you keep. I felt that it would be a disservice to both the living _and_ the dead to have no one remember the sacrifices made in the name of Earth. But even you, as a man of science, must know that it is not merely flesh and blood that makes a man _live_. The bodies of the dead have been de-aged, yes. But their souls have moved on. Their bodies have become soulless husks, nothing more than pristine corpses. It isn't much, but it is the best that I could do for them, and for those who will miss them and mourn them." Hyperion stated with finality, and Tony felt the fight leave him.

Despite the fact that his body now hadn't been through six days of war, Tony felt bone-tired and he sank to the ground, his back resting against the short wall lining the roof.

"You couldn't just… tell Dormammu to… I dunno… fuck off for the rest of eternity?" he weakly offered, hearing a rumbling chuckle come from the giant in response.

"I did, actually. That and more. But I am not so foolish as to trust a Lord of Darkness on his word, no matter how grudgingly it is given. Even if he kept his promise, with something as malleable, universal and subjective as Time, there would've been a loophole that he could find and abuse, _eventually_. That's what it means to be immortal Stark: you can play the _truly_ long game."

"Fine. Fine." Tony muttered as he allowed the back of his head to rest against the cool stone of the wall, closing his eyes as he did.

"Make no mistake, Tony. We _won_ today. Dormammu _lost_. This defeat is a rarity for him, on a scale that few, if any, have ever managed to inflict on him. By the time he's done licking his wounds, your great-great-grandkids will already be old and wrinkly. And he's not the only one that got his ass kicked: Hell lost a powerful Lord, and a significant amount of their grunts, though admittedly not a crippling number. Who knows, maybe Blonksy's still alive and kicking down there, just being a general nuisance. Gives a whole new meaning to the saying 'raising Hell', huh?"

Tony smirked a bit at that, before he gave a tired sigh, memories of countless fallen soldiers and civilians flashing through his mind.

"I get it. I do. Tactical victory, keeping up morale, all that jazz. I've heard it a hundred times before at Stark Industries meetings or in talks with generals. Just… do me a favor? Don't try that shit on me. I don't need cheering up. I know that it's unfair for me, for any of us, to expect you to go and raise the dead too, as if you haven't done enough for us already. If it weren't for you, we'd all _be_ dead right now, so we owe you. But if you really can't bring everybody back… then there's nothing left here anymore. Right now, I just wanna go home, get comfortably numb through the judicious application of quiet extraordinary amounts of alcohol, climb into bed with my girlfriend and hold her tight throughout the night." Tony morosely replied.

For a moment, all was silent except for the faint cheering from far down below, before Tony heard the sound of movement and of metal scraping against stone, before there was a heavy thud and a small tremor went through the roof and subsequently Tony's body. Opening a single eye, Tony glanced to his left, where McCole was sitting next to him, hands on his knees and back to the wall.

"I don't blame you: that sounds nice. I wish I could do the same, but… something came up that needs dealing with first." The Titan quietly stated.

Briefly Tony contemplated what to say, before giving a shrug and closing his eye again. He had some theories regarding Miss Jones' changed appearance, but he didn't know enough about the mystical mumbo-jumbo side of things ( _yet_ ) to really understand the consequences of it. 'Sides, while this was the second Invasion that they had fought off side by side, that didn't make them _friends_ , and Tony didn't feel it appropriate to start digging into the Titan's marital situation.

If he volunteered to talk about it, more power to him. Tony privately admitted to himself though that he would be the _last_ guy to talk to if he ever wanted relationship advice from anyone. The problem with that was the _first_ person he would want advice from was the woman he was already in a relationship in, so that didn't help matters at all (sure, Bruce _tried_ , but he wasn't a very good listener unfortunately).

Changing the subject, Tony brought up something that he had subconsciously picked up on during his talk with McCole, his mind now subtly (yet _firmly_ ) elbowing him in the side to examine it in closer detail.

"You've changed."

"Oh?"

Feeling McCole's eyes on him, Tony elaborated, even as he kept his eyes closed.

"It's in the way you speak. The way you carry yourself. You seem… older. Like if you were Gandalf the Grey before, and came back as Gandalf the White."

Cracking open an eye, Tony locked gazes with the Titan, who didn't seem very surprised at the inventor's observations, though somewhat amused at the odd comparison.

"How long were you in there?"

For a moment, the Titan looked away, appearing deep in thought, before he gave a rueful chuckle.

"Long enough that it doesn't really matter. Any 'time' spent there at all would've been time spent there for far too long."

"Huh. The more you know." Tony dryly replied, before closing his eye again, simply enjoying the sun as it softly warmed his face.

They sat there for quite a while in comfortable silence, side by side merely looking up at the sunny sky. Eventually, it was Tony who broke it.

"Michael."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For everything."

"… you're very welcome."

…

"You're still a dick though."

"Thanks. Right back at you."

The two of them shared a chuckle, before the comforting silence returned. The old wounds hadn't fully healed yet and this last battle had inflicted plenty of new ones for them to worry about.

But for now, in this little moment of peace, all was good.

* * *

 **May 5** **th** **, 2012, 03:00**

 **13 Hours after end of Invasion**

"I will be home as soon as possible, alright baby girl? There's just some stuff that daddy needs to take care of first, okay?"

"But Dad! You told me-"

"Yes. I did, yes. Look honey, I know Mister Hyperion repaired the city, but… uh, well, there's just a lot of stuff that Mister Hyperion can't do on his own, you know? It's just like me helping you with your math homework. We can't do everything by ourselves sweetie. We all need help. Okay?"

"Okay. When's Auntie Nat coming?"

"She… s-she is, uhm… listen sweetie. Auntie Nat is… she's gone away, for a while. It could take a bit of time before she can come by again."

"Oh. Like… next week?"

"No, honey, no. Uhm, she… it's going to take a little longer than that okay? But she… she misses you, and she hopes to get home soon, okay?"

"Okay!"

"Okay. Listen to your mother, and be nice to your brother. I'll be home as soon as I can. Love you."

"Love you too Dad!"

Shutting off the phone, Barton stared at the device in his hand for a few moments, as if it were a snake that could strike and bite him at any moment. Slowly, with a trembling hand, he slipped it into his pocket, before leaning forwards, gripping the sides of the sink in a white-knuckled grip.

His breathing became heavier and heavier as he desperately tried to control himself, his body shaking with an ocean's worth of suppressed emotions. Looking up, Barton locked eyes with his own reflection in the mirror as the world fell away around him, the sound of his heart beating like a drum in his ear.

Faster and faster and _faster_ until he couldn't take it anymore and with a silent scream punched the mirror. In that single explosive moment, it felt as if the pressure had been let off, at least for now. Seeing his broken reflection, Clint pulled back his fist, slowly and methodically picking out the little splinters of glass from between his knuckles with stilted movements, before rinsing his hands.

He didn't even really register the pain. He barely felt… anything.

He simply stood there, water running over his bloodied skin as he kept staring at the smashed mirror in front of him, until the sound of the door opening caught his attention. He could hear soft footsteps walk further into the room, before the newcomer spotted him and came to a halt.

For a moment, Barton thought that they were judging him, standing here in a bathroom of Stark Tower throwing a temper tantrum and smashing mirrors, but he was unable to find his voice or the will to defend himself, so he merely stayed silent, shutting off the faucet and slowly reaching for a towel.

"Clint? The meeting's already started. Do you want to join us? We'll understand if you don't-"

"It's fine."

"… Clint-"

"I said it's _fine_ , Captain." Barton bit out, looking at the distorted reflection of Steve Rogers in the mirror.

The man's earnest blue eyes didn't hold any judgement, and thankfully no pity. But they held grief, just as Barton's own did and a seemingly unending patience and understanding.

"Okay then. Floor 52, Wing D, Room C. I'll see you there." The supersoldier merely said, giving him a respectful nod and then marching out of the bathroom, leaving Barton to his thoughts.

For a few moments, Clint didn't move, instead merely staring at the towel in his hands, until he saw wet spots appearing on the white cloth. It took him a few moments to understand what was happening before he quickly dabbed at his eyes and took a shuddering breath to center himself.

Throwing the towel in the bin, Barton glanced at his own reflection one last time, before with great effort he raised his chin and squared his shoulders.

It was true what he told his daughter after all: there was still a _lot_ of work to be done.

Making his way up to the 52nd floor was easy, but the experience was nonetheless disconcerting: due to its proximity to the battle and being the HQ of the Avengers, the battle had concentrated around Avengers Tower several times at different points during the Invasion, as his briefings had dubbed it. The people were still divided however on what to call _this_ Invasion though, with names ranging from War on Earth (as opposed to the War in Heaven) or simply Hell Week.

Whatever name people ended up deciding on, the fact remained that less than a day ago, the hallway that Barton now walked through… simply hadn't existed. Thor had slammed a bipedal beast with tentacles for a head straight through this floor and three subsequent ones before he managed to reduce it to a smear on the ground.

 _Now_ , not a single sign of that battle remained. The walls were still there, the floor and ceiling were still there and there were no demon brains staining the carpet.

It was… _unsettling_. While everyone (including Clint himself) was grateful to Hyperion for restoring the city as he did, people couldn't help but to be weirded out by the stark difference in what they were seeing and what they remembered.

Finding your home in the exact condition that you left it in after you fled from a horde of demons would be jarring for anyone. Especially when not everything was back in place where it should be. Hyperion had given a ( _very_ ) short statement to the first people of the press who had dared to venture back into New York following his spell, and Tony had managed to give a brief conformation in his report before he ran off to bed, so Barton only had a limited grasp on just what exactly the Titan had done.

As far as he understood it, the spell had affected objects, rather than just time, meaning that stuff was still lying where it fell when the Titan did his magical juju.

People came home to ransacked rooms, but with every object that had been strewn about still in perfect conditions. Vases that had been clearly thrown to the ground lying there in perfect condition, without a single chip or crack. Picture frames that had been thrown against walls lying on the floor without a single mark on them. Cars that had been abandoned in the middle of street, after which they were smashed/blown up/set on fire, only for their gob-smacked owners to find them right where they jumped out of their vehicles.

Some things were more tragic than strange however. For instance, the fully intact fighter jet that they had found on one of the top-floors inside an office building in Manhattan. The healthy looking, but undeniably dead person sitting in the cockpit had made the find all the more harrowing for the first responders.

As far as Barton knew, there still were no plans on the table to extricate the jet, just like there were no plans for any of the similar occasions that had been found all over the city.

Wherever two objects would've occupied the same Space while turning back Time, they had just seemed to… glitch, back into reality. So far, there had only been a handful of accidents as a result of Hyperion's spell in which something had unintentionally gone wrong.

Barton had been briefed on them, as all Avengers and higher cleared SHIELD Agents and Army personnel had been, but he hadn't been… in the appropriate mindset and he had honestly forgotten most of them already.

One of them which he still vaguely remembered had been about a car being crushed underneath a tank. The tank had run over the car during the Hell Week, and its crew had been roasted alive inside of it when a demon managed to pry the lid off and climb inside. It had remained on top of that car for the remainder of Hell Week since it had quickly fallen deep behind enemy lines.

Then Hyperion swooped in to save the day and turned back Time and both the car and the tank were returned to excellent condition. Unfortunately, the tank had glitched back into existence _above_ the car, so when the spell was released, gravity managed to pick its jaw up off the floor and the car was subsequently squashed.

Still, considering the effects had been _city_ wide, Barton was somewhat surprised he had only been given a single sheet with such incidents (which was now probably somewhere in a trash bin he remembered), instead of a _massive_ stack of paperwork.

' _Magic. What_ _ **can't**_ _it do?'_ he glumly thought to himself, before almost stumbling as he fully realized the implications of what he had just asked.

Slowly, hope came back to life inside his chest as he tentatively started putting a plan together. He had no idea how this would work out, and absolutely no guarantees, but he _had_ to try it.

He owed it to Nat.

Clint was drawn from his musings by the sound of shouting and looking up, he realized he had already arrived at the conference room. Quickly opening the door, he let it softly fall closed behind him, before quietly moving to the back of the room, taking in its occupants with a quick glance.

Fury and Carter were standing at the front of the room, several high-ranking SHIELD Agents and what appeared to be a few generals from various branches of the military standing behind them. Carter's eyes swung to him when he entered, but otherwise didn't acknowledge him as she was wholly focused on the loud discussion going on. One distinctive voice in that discussion was Fury's, who was leaning forwards onto the head of the long table on his knuckles, his remaining eye blazing with anger and determination.

Somewhat behind Fury and to his left was Hill. She too had noticed him, and gave him a subtle, polite nod, but no more than that. Her hands were clasped behind her back, but Barton had known her long enough to know that the woman was tense and more than ready to go for her side-arm.

Sitting opposite the Government were the Avengers and their respective partners. Stark and Pepper, of course, were sitting closest to Fury and Carter at the right side of the table. Stark only seemed to be half-listening, appearing to be more interested in his phone, but Clint wasn't fooled.

He had seen footage of the Hammer vs. Stark hearing after all.

A Tony Stark that was looking at his phone was _far_ more dangerous than a Tony Stark that was looking at _you_.

Pepper's lips were pressed in a thin line as she stared down the Directors of SHIELD and half a dozen generals, a notepad filled with crisp writing in front of her as she tapped a pen against the paper as the only tell of her hidden frustration.

Banner and Betty Ross were sitting on their right, further away from the Government officials. Not surprising, given Banner's past experiences with the Army. The man looked uncomfortable, but that was hardly a new expression for Bruce. Thankfully, he didn't seem too flustered or angry, probably partly because of the slim hand of Betty that was resting on his forearm.

Opposite them on the left side of the table sat Steve Rogers and James Rhodes. As military men, they were more likely to side with whatever Fury was pushing for right now (or being _forced_ to do so), but they were also friends to Stark. There had even been a special note in his SHIELD file that Rhodes' loyalty to Stark was not to be underestimated and could potentially supersede his loyalty to his country.

Sitting to their left was Thor, who seemed utterly unimpressed by, or interested in, the argument going on, instead repeatedly poking his left arm with a look of wonder on his face. Clint could sympathize: he certainly had been surprised when his thee of his ribs had suddenly snapped back into place (especially since he had assumed he had only broken two).

Clint was rather thankful that Thor hadn't shown up with his brother, as had become his habit during the Hell Week, leaving him in the magically sealed prison in the New York Sanctum. It wasn't that Clint was unsympathetic to Thor's feelings regarding Loki. They had been brothers for longer than most countries even had had their names. Considering they came from a Viking-like culture, it was probably easier for Thor to stomach the deaths that Loki had on his conscious, even if the Jotun's betrayal hadn't hurt any less.

To be fighting side by side once more, for a just cause, that must've been a dream come true for the Thunder God.

No, Clint wasn't unsympathetic towards the blonde tower of muscle: it was his lankier, black-haired, black-hearted brother that he despised.

Mitigating circumstances or no, giving aid against the demons or no, Loki had _used_ him in order to cause the deaths of _hundreds_. The God of Lies had _violated_ him in the very worst possible meaning of the word. He had forced Clint to rain down death on his own friends and colleagues, because _apparently_ , the little God was throwing a temper tantrum.

Clint would _never_ forgive Loki. If it hadn't been for the other Avengers and his own exhaustion at the end of the One Day War, he would've put an arrow between Loki's eyes (and if that wouldn't do the trick, he had a whole quiver with explosive ordnance and was willing to bet that Loki's insides were a lot softer than his outsides).

Shaking off his dark thoughts, Clint focused on the person who was sitting next to Thor: his girlfriend Jane Foster, who was also here as a representative of Othrys. Clint was somewhat surprised that she was the only one of Hyperion's forces to be here. The archer had half expected to see Hogarth here ready to throw down with SHIELD, the Avengers and the military all at once.

Clint would've felt sorry for themselves is she _had_ shown up.

Foster seemed to do just fine though, an interestingly thin stack of papers in front of her. There had been longstanding rumors that Othrys had mind-enhancing drugs in its worryingly large arsenal of human modification serums, meaning that the petite scientist probably had Othrys' entire strategy already memorized.

Like Pepper, she only barely seemed to be able to contain her frustration, leaning forwards in her seat and searing Fury with her eyes ( _metaphorically_ , thankfully, since Clint was quite aware that the same could not be said for other Othrys employees). Sitting to the left of Jane and Thor, and who appeared to be more than a little awe at that fact, was a rather unassuming man. Seemingly in his thirties, with a rather unkempt appearance, he certainly looked out of place next to the Prince of Asgard in full battle regalia.

It took Clint a few seconds to recall the man's identity. Robert Coleman, who had apparently been named the 'Whizzer' for some godforsaken reason. Had the power to move supernaturally fast, but the superpower was triggered by his flight-or-fight response. Given that he had apparently worked close together with the military doing stuff from supply runs to communications, Clint figured he had been afraid during the entirety of Hell Week.

' _Then again, I suppose he's not the only one_.' The archer thought to himself.

There were various people standing against the walls of the room, but after a quick glance, Clint dismissed them. He recognized a few as SHIELD, the others were probably military or government representatives.

High enough clearance to be present, not important enough to have a seat at the table.

The fact that they were in a conference room in Avengers Tower in the first place was a surprise in and of itself. Whatever the military or the Government wanted, they would've undoubtedly preferred one of their own blacksites, and Fury being down here instead of up in his Helicarrier was a minor miracle of its own.

A powermove by Stark no doubt, to show his opponents where the power _truly_ lied.

As he had said to Loki (and had subsequently bragged about for _weeks_ to the other Avengers): they may have an Army, but the Avengers had the Hulk.

The only General who would've taken those odds was currently freezing his ass off on some miserable post in Antarctica, so that was one less headache to worry about.

Hearing that there was a lull in the shouting, Clint looked up, schooling his features into a smirk with the practice that comes from years of acting lessons.

"So, what did I miss?"

Of course, that unleashed a whole new tirade from several figures as they kept interrupting each other and trying to talk over each other, until the fighting from before returned with a vengeance. Not having the energy or will to be a part of the noise, Clint instead remained hanging back, going over the information in his head.

The Government was (admittedly not without cause) collectively shitting their pants. At least with the One Day War, Loki's destruction of the Project Pegasus facility had given SHIELD the chance to go on high alert and inform the WSC. For all their (many, _many_ ) faults, the WSC had still been an alliance between the highest-ranking politicians in several of the world's most powerful countries, meaning that behind the scenes, various world governments silently prepared themselves for an attack, completely unnoticed to the general populace.

Hell week, on the other hand…

There had been no warning. There had been no omens. Just an opening strike in the middle of one of the largest population centers on Earth, right when there were masses of people out on the street to celebrate humanity's victory in the last Invasion.

They had been taken off guard. The Government, sure, but the Avengers and even Othrys as well.

And this time, Hyperion was _somewhere_ in outer space _in a truck_.

The military had come to realize an uncomfortable truth: there were no battlefields anymore. There were no defensive positions or border control. No enemy on the other side of the ocean, which you could engage with your own forces while leaving your civilian population out of it.

Sure, the army had seen plenty of urban warfare, but never on its home turf, and never on this scale.

This new type of enemy could strike at _any_ time, right at the heart of their country, and the military wasn't equipped to beat them back.

Tony would no longer make toys for them and the ones that they already had were steadily running out. There were others eager to take up the slack, Hammer, Lockheed, even Roxxon just to name a few. But they were no Stark, and in the end, that was the hardware that was needed to stand against this new type of opponent.

There was only one other on the planet who could deliver equal and even greater armaments, but like Tony, Michael McCole refused to sell weapons to the military. Better and cheaper body armor, faster vehicles and jets, clearer and stronger communications devices, sure, he sold those and for an outrageously steep price as well.

And while it had saved the life of many a soldier, it hadn't won the war.

General Patton had once said that wars were won with men, a mantra that had become increasingly popular ever since the success of Captain America. But this was the second time that the Government had to concede that they didn't have the better men.

And _this_ time, it had almost meant the end of humanity altogether.

But Othrys was capable of pumping out these men by the dozen. With the power hidden away in the monolithic structure that was the seat of power to Hyperion himself under their control, there was no opponent that they could not beat, no enemy that they ever need to fear again.

Of course, no General, no matter how powerhungry, was foolish enough to think about strong-arming Hyperion in giving up his secrets (again, the only one who possibly would be was on a well-deserved time-out in Earth's largest coolbox). His displays of power had shocked the world into silence and there still was surprisingly little media coverage of it (not in the least because even the most intrepid of reporters had finally wizened up and evacuated as well after the second day). It hadn't been said by anyone yet, but Clint knew that everyone was _thinking_ it, including every single person in this room.

Hyperion was untouchable.

The 16th century philosopher Thomas Hobbes had introduced a sociological and societal model that basically said that the only reason that society could exist, was because people sacrificed some of their freedom by accepting a higher authority than them, namely the state. Following this view, the state must have the monopoly in violence, and as such is the mediator in any conflict that the humans of the populace might have.

According to Hobbes, if humans didn't surrender their freedom, didn't accept the state's sole right to disciplinary action, then they would give in to their baser, _violent_ nature and all of society would collapse in the biggest bar brawl the world had ever seen.

Which raised the question: who could possibly discipline Hyperion? These concerns had been raised before, especially in the months following the One Day War. Between Hyperion and Theia, and Thor and the Hulk, both Othrys and the Avengers had been painted by various fearmongers as rogue elements just waiting to happen.

Even before the One Day War there had been a long running grudge between the Hulk and the Army. The Hulk seemed to put _very_ little faith in Hobbes' view of surrendering the monopoly of violence to the state.

Still, that had been different to what Hyperion had displayed. People (mostly those in politics and the military) had feared him, because his power meant that confronting him would've been more trouble than it would've been worth.

 _Now_ , people were forced to realize that there wouldn't be much of a confrontation at all. Hyperion would wipe them from the face of the earth like a man brushes dust of his shoulder and then he would turn their entire base into a smoking crater several miles wide just for good measure.

No, while they were salivating over his techbase and his powerups, not a single one of the representatives present here wanted to try and strongarm the most powerful being they had ever seen. But it hadn't taken them long before they realized they could look towards those who might stand a better chance of doing so.

After all, the Avengers possessed the very man who had popularized the Patton quote. Then there were Hulk and Thor to consider: two big brutes with a penchant for wholesale destruction of little towns. Perfect candidates to function as the military's strongmen. And if they could not bring Othrys to heel, then there was always the chance that they themselves could be laid low.

As far as Clint could tell, SHIELD was here as a sort of bridge or buffer (depending on who you asked) between the military and the Avengers, but also partly because SHIELD wanted to recoup its losses. Back when the One Day War had been won, they had managed to steal away _some_ Chitauri tech before Hogarth stepped in and set up a joined storage/research initiative between the Government and Othrys, shutting SHIELD's operations down hard.

Still, despite the complete clusterfuck that had followed, SHIELD had been able to claim a small victory by adding another stash to their collection of advanced/alien technology, ripe for reverse engineering.

There was no technology to claim from the demons.

The demons from Hell had been completely liquified by whatever Samuel Sterns had done to close the portal to their dimension ("he goo-ified them, what more do you want me to say?!" a frustrated Stark had yelled when one General had failed to grasp the intricate quantum mechanics Tony had been trying to explain one too many times) and nobody wanted to touch the Mindless Ones from the Dark Dimension with a ten-foot pole wrapped in Vibranium after seeing the effects their blood had on humans and Hell-demons alike.

Meaning there wasn't even any genetic material to take away from this and experiment on.

Still, SHIELD had a dislike of leaving empty-handed, and considering the hits they had been taking for this past year, they were rather eager to get an in on Othrys technology as well. And failing that, there was always their old partnership with Stark.

Who was less than pleased with that line of thinking.

"Fuck no."

"Tony!"

"Right, right, sorry. Please excuse me, allow me to rephrase: fuck off."

"Tony! That _wasn't_ the part that you should've rephrased!"

"Oh, come one Pep, you're only mad 'cause you didn't get to say it first."

"Mr. Stark, please-" Carter began, sounding more exhausted than angry.

Clint realized with a start that she had probably tired from saying that line ever since before he had even been born.

"Peggy." Steve cut in, his voice soft but his tone firm.

With a sigh, Director Carter turned to look at him, though her expression almost immediately softened when they locked eyes.

"Tony doesn't want to sell the Army weapons anymore. He has left that life behind him. I understand why you, why _all_ of you, would want him to come back, I do. As Fury once said, we're hopelessly outgunned. But it's still Tony's decision, Peggy. _He_ decided that he would quiet being the Merchant of Death, but become Iron Man instead. It's a brave decision, and one that I feel we should honor. There's no weapon in the world that would help us if we had to _force_ someone to make it for us." The Captain said earnestly, and for some reason Clint was reminded of Mister Rogers.

If Mister Rogers was over six feet tall, immensely muscular and could choke-slam a demon _through_ a concrete wall that is.

The supersoldier's words caused most people to shuffle on their feet as if they just got a lecture from their dad, and Carter gave Steve a soft smile and an exasperated shake of the head. Steve and Tony caught each other's eyes and exchanged a short, professional nod.

It seemed that on this then, the Avengers would stand united.

"Now look, Captain. I'm _all_ for that Kumbaya-shit you're trying to sell here. I am. The problem? _They're not_. We no longer need to just worry about the billions of other planets out there with potential enemies. Now we need to start worrying about entire _dimensions_ as well! And _I_ for one, will worry a whole lot less, when I got a weapon capable of actually hurting those motherfuckers tucked under my pillow at night." Nick Fury spoke up, his gaze unwavering as he stared America's greatest soldier down.

"And I've been trying to tell you, you don't _need_ to worry! Even now, we at Othrys are setting up a monitoring system, which will alert us should our dimensional walls become thinner! This is in _addition_ to the monitoring spells _and_ barriers put into place by the Masters of the Mystic Arts!"

"Fat load of good those did us." One of the generals muttered just a little too loudly, and Clint frowned.

True, the Masters didn't have the greatest track record as far as he was aware, allowing two Invasions to happen in two years (however, considering this was an ancient hidden organization of wizards, he suspected that they had to have had a not insignificant number of victories under their belt if they were still operational). Still, the wizards had come out en masse to aid in the defense of New York and had suffered losses just as they all had.

Initial reports claimed that they had even almost lost their bases because they had left it understaffed in order to rush to humanity's defense, allowing them to be overrun (showing that, even if they had a somewhat poor grasp of tactics, their heart was definitely in the right place), so the last thing that they deserved was getting disrespected by a some fat guy that had been sitting safe and sound nearly four thousand miles away from the battle in a secure bunker, while they had fought and died on the front lines.

Judging by the smell of ozone that was quickly filling the room, Clint wasn't the only one who was thinking along those lines.

Having stopped poking his re-attached arm, the God of Thunder had risen to his full height without a word and once all eyes were on him, had pointedly placed Mjolnir on the table in front of him. The heavy Uru-metal made an unnaturally loud noise when Thor released it, and Clint saw more than a few sets of eyes nervously flick towards the legendary Warhammer and then back to her equally legendary wielder.

"The Masters of the Mystic Arts are our allies. Their leader, the Ancient One, is a friend. You would do well not to disrespect her in my presence ever again." The Asgardian firmly intoned, looking every bit the Royal Thunder God that Vikings had thought him to be hundreds of years ago.

The General looked suitably chastised, but Fury quickly took control of the conversation again, appearing to not be bothered by the angered God standing not even ten feet away from him.

"Look, if we can get back down to business. Humanity is _scared_. They looked to us to protect them, and _we_ failed. The war was won, but it sure as shit wasn't won by _us_. All we could do, was hold out until Hyperion could come back from his little Magic Schoolbus experience to save our collective assess. A man, who I'll _remind_ you, is suspected of being the _thief_ who stole Stark's tech from his Expo during his fight with Vanko two years ago! Not to mention the various murders that he has been implicated in-"

"Director, I would like to remind you that these are merely rumors and that Othrys would like you to either present proof or refrain from making these comments in the future, or we will sue for libel." Jane spoke up quickly, nearly jumping from her chair in her vigorous defense of her boss and new home.

"Oh, I _bet_ you'd like to remind me about that." Fury growled out in annoyance, but Foster was undeterred.

"Considering I know from firsthand experience how you and your people are fine with flaunting the law to get what you want…" the scientist shot back icily, causing Fury to give an annoyed grunt, though he did back off.

In the tense silence that followed, Carter spoke up, her voice calm and collected and clearly not tolerating any further bullshit or objections.

"This is not a time for squabbling, or releasing our fear in the form of anger. There are some truths that we all already know, but don't want to acknowledge and I think it's best that we lay out all our cards on the table. So, in summation: we are all afraid. Afraid of the demons coming back. Afraid of the demons existing in the first place and all that it implies. Afraid of what would've happened if we lost. And, as dishonorable as it may sound to some of you, afraid of the man who made sure that we _won_. We owe Hyperion a great debt of gratitude for his strength and power. But it is that same strength and power that makes some of us… uncomfortable. He has shown the power to potentially raze cities to the ground, if not _worse_ , with an ease that is honestly terrifying. But more than that, those of us that fear him, do so, because at the reigns of all that godlike power, is just a man. And many of us here have seen the darker, _corrupt_ side of Mankind. Thor, you are a literal God. More than a millennium old. Even you were banished from your realm due to foolishness and your irresponsible handling of your power. Just how can we put our trust in a _human_ wielding similar, or even _greater_ power? We are not meant to be Gods. I have seen it many times, and it has never ended well. We cannot handle the power it grants us. Cannot deal with the truths it shows us. We will become our own destruction and in doing so, will hurt others as well."

"Micheal wouldn't do that! How can you even say that after what he did for you?!" Foster spoke up again, appearing genuinely upset.

"Perhaps not. Perhaps he will prove to be better than all of us. But… perhaps he _won't_. Can _you_ say with certainty? You live with superhumans on a daily basis. Look me in the eye and tell me that they are all paragons of truth and justice and general goodness. They are wonderful people, no doubt, but they are just that. _People_. As is Michael, even if he presents himself as something different these days." Carter softly, but firmly rebutted.

Allowing her eyes to roam across the room's occupants, she continued.

"You all know me. You know what Hyperion has done for me. What he has given to me. For that, I will always be grateful to him, and even if I do not sound like it, I genuinely consider him to be a good person and I wouldn't mind to call him friend, or ally at the very least. What some of you may not know are the side-effects of what he has done to me. Perhaps he didn't know as well. The Supersoldier Serum, it changes both what's on the outside _and_ what's on the inside. In the case of Red Skull, it enhanced his evil nature, in the case of Steve, it enhanced his good nature. It seems in me, it has enhanced my stubbornness and paranoia."

She gave a rueful grimace.

"They are… _difficult_ habits to drop. So do be aware that what I am warning you all against here is what I see as the worst case scenario, _not_ my personal opinion on Michael McCole. That does _not_ make it the _least likely_ scenario, or a scenario we shouldn't _anticipate_. If he went rogue-"

"He wouldn't!"

"But if he _did_ … what then? The loss of life would be catastrophic." Carter calmly continued after Foster's outburst.

For a moment, there hang a heavy silence in the room as everyone considered the Director's words and Clint just knew that each and every single one of them was replaying the various moments that Hyperion showed the true extent of his power in their mind.

He did it too, after all.

"You're asking us to turn on humanity's savior? On it's greatest champion?" Bruce eventually spoke up, and despite the fact that the scientist's voice was mild and soft, Clint saw every single person in the room tense up when he spoke.

No one here would think of interrupting Bruce Banner when he was frowning like that.

"No. I'm asking you if you'll stand in defense of humanity when… _if_ the time comes." Carter replied calmly.

"And if you'll help us do the same. Which brings us to the second point of why we're all _really_ here. We want in. Right now, highly advanced technology is being developed at a mindboggling pace inside Othrys and Avengers Tower. And it's staying in there. The rest of the world can barely keep up. The PDF is still laying its foundations, between recruitment, training and actually building their goddamn space-station, having to fight through miles of red tape every step of the way. NASA is sending material up into space at an increased rate of 450% and yet at little over half of what they used to spend before, but it's only small stuff like probes and satellites. On his latest press conference, Elon Musk said that the first structures that will build housing units on Mars aren't going to take off until 2015 at the earliest, though he expects things will pick up speed rapidly from there. Othrys is trying to get a wonder pill to market that will cure almost any disease or minor injury, but is fighting an endless battle against the FDA, not to mention various protests from hospitals and their staff who fear they'll be out of a job soon. I could go on-"

"Please don't."

Sending a glare at Stark, who merely smiled broadly in response, Carter took a deep breath, before continuing.

"The advancement of humanity is being hamstringed by bureaucracy. _We_ can do a lot to make the process go smoother, _faster_. But nothing's for free and we want something in return. Something that'll make us feel actually _useful_ in the next fight, instead of sitting on our asses, fighting a retreating battle as we're looking up at the sky praying for deliverance from evil! We want to fight goddamit! So let us!"

Clint saw how some people in the room flinched at Carter's curse, and more than a few couldn't help their gazes from quickly darting around them. Veterans of Hell Week then. One didn't walk away from fighting demons without the fear of God put firmly into them.

He had seen it all over the world, even during Hell Week itself. Massive amounts of people were flocking to Church, the Roman-Catholic one to be precise. It hadn't seen membership numbers like this since the Middle Ages, when the Pope could militarize almost the entirety of Europe but with a single speech. People were desperate to be baptized, to have their sins quickly and conveniently washed away, almost hoping that it would be something along the lines of trying to remove their scent so the demons wouldn't hunt them down.

Of course, once _they_ had been relieved of sin, they started to get really suspicious of whoever _hadn't_ had his sins washed away, and there had been a sudden and worryingly large uptick in hate crimes against (and between) minorities and different religious sides. Christian versus Muslim. Protestant versus Catholic. Sunni versus Shi'i. Everyone who wasn't one of your own, was a potential sinner and thus either the cause of Hell Week, or a potential lure for the demons already here.

With Hell Week finally over and Earth saved by Hyperion, the situation had thankfully defused somewhat, but tensions were still running high all over the world. This was worse than when humanity had violently been shown that they were not alone in the universe and that other Gods existed.

That had also led to religious wars in several areas, but it had also caused a lot of people to lose their faith following the appearance of Chitauri and Thor. Now, people were massively flocking to various religious leaders that seemed to pop out of the woodwork like those games at carnivals where you had to wallop gophers springing up out of a box.

Shame you couldn't grab a bat and wallop these new preachers too.

Some of them definitely needed it.

More interesting (or worrying, depending on how you looked at it) were the people that had begun to form a new religious order all together: neo-pagans. Modern Paganism had already been around of course, but it had always been seen as some odd, harmless (if not somewhat scary looking/sounding) minority, practiced by either hippies or the peoples of Scandinavia.

It had seen a significant rise in numbers since Thor had appeared, causing SHIELD to briefly look into it, but other than flagging some key players connected to various hate groups and extremists (on both sides of the spectrum) they hadn't been deigned a serious threat to international security.

The case had been sealed, information had discreetly been passed on to the relevant Norwegian, Danish and Swedish authorities and then SHIELD had gone back to worrying about its own problems (of which there were _many_ ).

 _Now_ however, Modern Paganism had gone viral. Neo-pagans were celebrating all over the globe and their number kept swelling by the day.

They celebrated the victory of their God: Hyperion.

Right now, it was still classified as a cult, though one of the largest Clint had ever seen, since Hyperion hadn't given a statement on 'his' neo-pagans yet and the pagans themselves hadn't elected an official church leader of any kind.

Which meant that _something_ had to be done soon, or without agreed upon guidelines, the multitude of differing factions would go to war against each other over the most minute details as they violently tried to establish orthodoxy.

It was how every single major religion on earth had been formed, and unless someone stepped in, it would appear that the newest one would evolve in a similar manner.

Yet the only person who realistically _could_ step in was Hyperion himself. If he did, then overnight he would gain millions of followers who would place their loyalty to him above nearly everything else.

With Carter's speech fresh in his mind, Clint couldn't help but feel uncomfortable at the thought (then again, the pope also made him uncomfortable, so maybe he just had a thing against global religious leaders in general rather than anything against Michael McCole specifically?)

Thor of course had been of no use at all.

"Really? Worshippers? I should visit them! I fondly remember their Yuletide celebrations! Uhm, I actually don't remember much about the celebrations… but that is the point! And after Hyperion goes Julebukking with me, I shall go witness the Games with him! It's been far too long since I've seen pankration and gladiator fights!" the God had simply said with an enormous grin and a faraway look in his eyes.

Focusing back on Carter, Clint realized that in the few seconds after she had spoken, no one had answered her, too uncomfortable to meet her gaze. Well, he supposed he had been quiet for some time now, might as well speak up.

"See… the thing is, you say you can't trust Hyperion, 'cause he's human. Yet you ask us to put massive amounts of firepower in _your_ hands. But what are you? Ain't you human as well? What makes you any more trustworthy than Hyperion? In case you've forgotten, almost all of us here have blood in our ledger."

Clint saw several of the Avengers bow their heads or close their eyes at his reference to Natasha and Clint himself stubbornly clenched his jaw and refused to blink.

"Accountability. Unlike McCole, _we_ still answer to our superiors-" Fury began, but was immediately interrupted by a hologram popping up out of the table right in front of him.

It was a chibi-version of Fury, who had his hands on his hips and cutely glared out to the room. Then audio began to play from the speakers in the room and Clint didn't bother hiding his grin.

"Given that it is a stupid ass decision, I've elected to ignore it!"

As the little chibi-Fury hologram began repeating its iconic line, Stark looked up from his phone for the first time in minutes, a painfully fake look of innocence plastered on his face as he looked at the Directors of SHIELD.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?"

"Hot damn!" Clint heard someone whisper under their breath, and he shot the Whizzer an amused look as the chubby guy blanched and wilted under the combined weight of the gazes from the Directors of SHIELD.

"Alright Tony, shut it off." Steve asked politely, and after some clearly unnecessarily long fiddling with his phone, Tony acquiesced.

Looking from his fellow Avenger to Fury and Carter, Steve rose to his full height, clasping his hands behind his back in an easy stance as he stared both Directors down.

"I think we all should go and get some sleep. Our bodies were wound back, but not our minds. We're all tired and still coming down from our battle highs. I say we put a pin in this discussion for now, or perhaps the foreseeable future. The world is changing. But no matter what happens, I can assure each and every single person here, the Avengers will never stop in protecting it, from threats both without _and_ within. For now, I say we focus on damage control and emergency relief, before addressing the public's fears and calming everyone down before someone, somewhere, does something stupid. All right?"

Like almost everyone else in the room, Clint found himself nodding in response to the Captain's question, and like a class in school that had just been dismissed, several people started shuffling out of the conference room. Several of the generals seemed rather peeved by the chain of command being so easily broken by Steve, but it's not easy being in the military and going against Captain America when he's standing in front of you, especially when he's backed by the full force of the Avengers.

… not the _full_ force though, Clint remembered, and whatever good mood had slowly began building during the meeting immediately died an ignoble death as a cold emptiness seemed to fill his chest again.

He was so distracted by the sudden resurgence of his own grief, he missed Fury fishing a pager out of one of his coat pockets, giving a grim smile as he looked at the displayed message, before giving Carter a significant look. Had he been in a better mental state, he might have even picked up their conversation.

"What is it?"

"She's here."

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** A mural on the floor containing the Orb at the beginning of Guardians of the Galaxy depicts the four Cosmic Entities in the Marvel universe: Death, Eternity, Entropy, and Infinity. In the center of the mural are the six Infinity Stones. The wiki states that the Cosmic Entities are responsible for the creation of the Stones.

 **AN:** Originally, I was also going to include Hank Pym having an argument with his daughter because he doesn't want to go to Hyperion to try and save Janet, even though it's clear to them that someone at Othrys has a far greater grasp of the Quantum Realm than Hank does (which is a _very_ tough pill for him to swallow). Hope would storm out, telling him that she wouldn't be held back by her dad's grudges and implies that she's going to Othrys to get help finding her mother. Without his daughter and still unwilling to go to either Stark or SHIELD (though the thought of seeing Carter again tempts him) he decides to do something unorthodox: contact Bill Foster to ask for his help. Of course, he would try to dig up every single little piece of dirt he can find on Foster first, hoping to find some leverage to go back to his old colleague with, leading him to find out about Ava (Ghost). This would lead them to team-up to try and save Ghost, who would become more and more unstable overtime despite their best efforts, leading Hank, who's at the end of his rope, to reach out to his daughter at Othrys, thus bringing the Ant-Man plotlines back into Michael's story. The thing is, this chapter is already 14k words long, and what I've written here is enough to write a whole separate story for, so I'm just informing you all here in the AN, so that we can get on with the actual story in the next chapter. That one will have a lot of talking as well as Michael rounds up the final pieces that he needs and starts preparing his Endgame. However, it also has a pretty kick-ass battle at the end _and_ a new power-up for Michael! So, yay! See you then, cheers!

 _All of my thanks and gratitude to my lovely patrons! IronmanMarkIV, justlovereadin, Shaman95, Daniel Dorfman, Carn Krauss, DoctorTortoise, Sam, Thordur Hrafn, DavidJP, ReaperScythe, CJ Elsen, Devon, Khamalpreet Singh, Kyle Reese, RLStrained, Kahn, Vu, Roman Krupkin! Thanks so much!_


	50. Life of Michael

_**Life of Michael**_

* * *

 **May 5** **th** **, 2013, 14:00**

 **About an hour after Michael returned from the Dark Dimension**

 **Down-town Manhattan**

I watched as Stark took off in his newly restored Iron Man suit. It had been good to just… sit for a moment. To have a breather after the insanity that was the past week (for him, for _me_ it had been an insane few subjective _centuries_ ). But of course, it couldn't last, and with a tired expression that had nothing to do with the physical state of his body (which was seven days younger than it ought to be after all), he bade me goodbye and hopped back into his armor, blasting back towards Avengers tower for debriefing and damage control. We both knew that, while the crisis had been averted, shit had yet to stop hitting the fan. Just like with the One Day War, this Invasion would have massive consequences in the way that humanity looked at its own place in the universe.

And in the grander scheme of things as a whole, considering actual dimensions of Evil had been involved this time.

I gave a deep sigh as I leaned against the low balustrade of the building, looking out over the city that showed no visible sign of having been ground-zero for an extra-terrestrial Invasion the likes of which hadn't been seen since Odin had kicked the Frost Giants back to Jotunheim.

Considering the hell I had been through for a literally unknowable amount of "time", I quietly agreed myself that I had earned just a little more rest, just a _little_ time to decompress and find my footing again, before I tackled whatever fallout would result from this latest crisis.

The moment that I had thought of that and prepared to take off back to my luxurious room (and hot-tub back) in Othrys, a wizarding portal shimmered into existence a few feet to my left, allowing a harried looking Sterns and Ancient One to step through.

It was rather odd to see the state they were in, to be honest: the last time I saw them, Sterns had been in a banged-up suit of armor and covered in demonic blood and the Ancient One had lost part of the skin on her face and the use of one of her arms.

Now they stood in front of me without so much as a scratch on them.

"Michael! You _really_ need to see this!"

"Hey you two. Listen, I get that… _whatever_ it is, it's pretty important and stuff, but I'm _exhausted_ and I just really want to go and take a nap. For a few hours, at least. So if we can revisit this tomorrow-" I say with a small smile as I prepare to turn away from them, but Sterns' next words halt me in my tracks.

"It's about Jessica's pregnancy!"

Slowly, I turn back to face them again, and I take in their serious expressions. They're thrown for a loop I realize with a start. Considering this is _Sterns_ , literally the smartest human alive, and the Ancient One, centuries old master of a hidden sect of wizards tasked with protecting the world… that's _worrying_.

"What is it." I bite out immediately, stepping closer towards them as my Extremis lights up reflexively.

"Okay, listen, this took some work, considering you reset my suit and all its databanks, so I lost most of the data I collected on her during my scans, but The Ancient One explained what you had done and I managed to reconstruct most of it from memory, meaning that there still was some data-loss, which I rectified using-"

" _Sam_."

The egghead stops his rambling, looking up at me with wide eyes, before taking a thin slate from a compartment in his armor. Tapping its side twice and gesturing with his hand, a set of holographic screens pops up between us, which he quickly navigates, before settling on a picture which he enlarges until it's about the same size as my torso.

It's showing a glowing… something. It appears to be roughly circular and made of twisting layers of light and force. It's difficult to really tell, considering that it's surrounded on all sides by thick, darkly colored flames.

As suspicion coils in my gut, I glance up at the two of them, wordlessly looking for confirmation. It's the Ancient One who responds with a slight nod.

"A picture of Jessica's belly when she was in Ghost Rider form. Within her body of Hellfire, there was an orb of pure power, a barrier, stronger than anything I've _ever_ seen. Protecting what's within."

"My child…" I softly whisper, as I look back at the golden orb in the holographic screen again.

I felt lightheaded the longer I looked at it, and I belatedly realized that I had forgotten to keep breathing. Some small part of me took in my reaction and blithely wondered if this is how normal parents react when they see the echoes of their babies for the first time during the ultrasound.

"Not… exactly…" Sterns interrupts my musings, and I look up at him in confusion and with a slight hint of worry.

Seeing it, my friend is quick to reassure me.

"Look, as far as we can tell, _whatever_ that barrier is made out of, it protected what's inside from the Hellfire surrounding it. We're pretty sure of it. Sort of like those extra-dimensional pockets that I've been experimenting with, you know: what's _inside_ is wholly untouchable by what's on the _outside_ … It's just that… uhm, we can't really tell _what's_ on the inside…"

"WHAT!"

"Calm yourself, Hyperion. Your friend here stated it somewhat unfortunately, but I do not believe there is cause for worry. I too failed to look through the barrier, but I _did_ manage to feel the energies that were swirling inside. Your children shall be healthy, of that I'm certain."

"Oh thank G-" my sigh of relief sticks in my throat and I swallow my words as I look at the Ancient One with wide eyes.

" _Children_?"

"I cannot tell you how it happened, but this is what my spells revealed to me: _three_ distinct signatures. One fully of the Light, one fully of the Dark, and one that sits in-between, bringing balance and harmony to the two. I cannot tell you with certainty how they were formed from the child that Jessica had been carrying until now. Either dark energies already existed within it, or they were introduced with the possession by the Spirit of Vengeance, but in both cases, they appear to have split off, becoming its own entity with a third one forming from both their energies. Perhaps the original child was broken up to form these three. Perhaps something else entirely. We may never know." The Ancient One tries to explain calmly, but her tone doesn't change the message and I still feel a hammering in my ears which I only belatedly realize is the drumming of my heart.

Feeling lightheaded, I sink down against the low wall, my elbows on my knees, my head in my hands, as I chew through what the Ancient One just revealed to me. I can hear a faint buzzing as both the wizard and the scientist keep talking to me, but I can barely pay attention to it as I keep going over the Ancient One's words.

"We don't know what the barrier is made of, but it seems to have formed a shell that even Hellfire couldn't burn away. We're not sure if this originated from the children or from some hidden instinct on Jessica's part-"

They're visibly caught off guard when I suddenly speak up.

"What shall become must always have been." I quote, and I can see the Ancient One frown in recognition of the words.

"I'm sorry what?" Sterns asks with a raised eyebrow.

"It's… it's a riddle that Dormammu told me. I managed to get him to talk about… a _lot_ of things. He told me this riddle when I asked him about my future with Jessica and the future of our child." I explain.

The Ancient One's frown deepens as she goes over my words.

"I'm not certain about the true meaning of the riddle. Knowing it came from Dormammu, there might not even be one, or one that is purposefully misleading. But it seems to imply that the mere existence of your children in the future was powerful enough to reach back through Time itself to guarantee their own survival." She says slowly.

I nod, having entertained the thought during my stint of isolation within the Dark Dimension (I entertained a _lot_ of crazy thoughts back then), but Sterns is taken by surprise at her words.

"How is that even possible?" the scientist asks, no doubt trying to work out just how something like that would mess with the flow of Time.

"It shouldn't be. Not for me. Not even for someone as Hyperion. Not as he is _now_."

Hearing the emphasis she placed on that word, I look up to lock eyes with her, and I can see how she gives a significant look at the Infinity Stones resting in my helmet, shield and at my throat.

Thinking it over, I come to another realization.

"Helios. Selene. Eos. The Sun, the Moon and the Dawn. The three children of Hyperion and Theia." I softly say, before glancing up at the Ancient One, who nods back with a grave expression on her face.

"With each day that passes, you take up his mantle more and more. Now, after your victory over Dormammu, more than ever. You are coming into your own as the Lord of Light. Clearly, even the people surrounding you are starting to reflect that."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You came to that conclusion rather fast. I feel that this is not as much of a surprise to you as I imagined that it would be. What more did you see within the Dark Dimension? What other secrets did he reveal to you?"

I let out a shaky laugh as I work myself back to my feet, a waterfall of errant thoughts roiling through my mind.

"Believe me, I'm surprised. I'm _very_ surprised. But with what Dormammu revealed about the first Hyperion… about the nature of the conflict between Light and Dark Dimensions, about the history of the universe… No, I _am_ surprised. But I can now also see the strings that are being pulled. The threads of fate that I'm following back to their end. This… this makes sense."

The Ancient One lifts a pale eyebrow, but doesn't push further. Sterns quickly looks between us with a slight frown, before he shakes it off.

"Look, mantles of power, threads of destiny, this all sounds very important, real Lord of the Rings levels of drama here, but can we focus back on what's important here? Michael, you're going to have _triplets_! Are you ready for that? Hell, is _Jess_ ready for that?! She's the one that's going to have to pop out all three of them you know?"

I can feel the Extremis leave my face as I blanch in horror.

"Oh no. She's going to _kill_ me when she comes back." I say lowly, though my worries are waved away by the Ancient One.

"Don't be so dramatic. It will come as a shock to her, that's for sure, but it's hardly something she'll _kill_ you over."

A wicked little smile pulls at her lips as she tilts her head.

"Now, _emasculation_ , that's something that's _definitely_ still on the table…"

I let out a groan as I pinch the bridge of my nose, while Sterns and the Ancient One share a good chuckle at my expense. Still, I'm thankful that the Ancient One broke the tension, allowing me a clearer head. Stark hadn't been wrong: I _had_ changed, the revelations that I had manage to extract out of Dormammu leaving their mark on me.

It was good to know that I could still be brought back down to Earth to laugh alongside those I considered friends.

It made me feel… more human again, something that I welcomed after the lonely cold of the Dark Dimension. Ironic, considering how desperately I had tried to shed my humanity in my quest for omnipotence.

Giving a deep sigh, I glance up at the midday sun as I consider my next words.

"This… this gives me a _lot_ to think about. But for now, our immediate actions will remain unchanged. The world has been turning into a powder keg ever since the One Day War last year. The changes that Othrys has been making have done a lot to defuse those tensions over the past year, but now all those old fears will return with a vengeance. Given the nature of the attack, appearing without warning or an identifiable leader to react against, humanity will start turning on itself. Paranoia will run rampant. Massive amounts of people will suffer existential crises. Governments the world over will scramble to keep up in this new phase of what they see as just yet another form of Arms Race and might, no, _will_ end up doing something stupid. People will look towards Othrys, towards _me_ , with both gratitude and fear. Some even with greed. We all will need to be on our toes for the foreseeable future if we want to avoid catastrophic confrontations."

Sterns nods, before looking at me from the corner of his eyes.

"That sounds… surprisingly mature. You've changed." He observes, drawing a raised eyebrow from me.

"Oh? Are you saying that I was immature before?"

"No, not _immature_ per se, but more… headstrong and determined. Always knowing what you wanted and what to do to get it, but not always as aware of possible consequences from doing so." He muses.

"Just how long did you spend in there anyways?"

"You're the second person to ask me that. I reckon you won't be the last. Suffice to say, it was a _long_ time. Far, _far_ longer than the time that passed on Earth. It's no use asking me how long exactly: time doesn't really 'flow' there as we understand it and even if it did, I placed Dormammu and I in a time-loop until he couldn't take it anymore."

That comment gains me two gaping expressions, though for different reasons. The Ancient One appears shocked that my will outlasted that of Dormammu, given that she knows more than (almost) anyone just how powerful he is. Sterns is shocked because… well…

"You pulled off a Groundhog Day?! That's _so cool_!" the scientist shouts with an enthusiastic smile, before his expression changes to one of slight distress as the implications of it all start to sink in.

"Wait. Time doesn't flow there… so the ending of the day can't have been your reset-trigger, since days don't 'end' in there… meaning that your reset-trigger most likely was…" he trails off as his eyes go wide, and I merely give him a small smile.

"My death, yes."

For a moment, silence settles over the rooftop, before my friend speaks up in a low voice.

"How… how often… did you… you know…"

In response, I activate one of the projectors in my armor, and from a small compartment in my chest a holographic screen is projected. It shows a row of mountains made out of the corpses of my enemies, the blood and pus streaming from their broken bodies running down and forming a shallow lake of caustic sludge between where I'm standing and those I'm facing. On the other 'bank' stands the humanoid form of Dormammu, and shifting behind him, like a rising tide of nightmare and horror made flesh, is a significant part of his army.

The humanoid Dormammu takes somewhat after how he appears in the comics, but his armor is colored the same inverted void as his Mindless Ones and instead of having a flaming head, it's the LSD-fueled shifting one that used to fill up the sky, just scaled down.

And clearly visible on the rippling brow of said shifting head, there's a thin row of slightly discolored marks.

After he came to bargain with me, I had engaged in a duel to the death with him so that I could reset and restore myself back to my prime, without the accumulated wear and tear that came from spending decades living in (and off) the corpse garden that had formed around my respawn point. Since resetting wiped all the stored footage until that point, we had hammered out an agreement (though 'agreement' is something of a strong word, considering how much Dormammu was seething with sheer rage) in which he would gather a suitably impressive army in front of me and clearly state that he conceded this battle to me, and that he would leave Earth, after which I would _finally_ extricate myself from his dimension.

I suspect it will become a sensation overnight once I upload the (somewhat staged) footage to the internet.

"Every single one of those 'scars' is where my scythe hit him during one of my lives." I explain, and both Sterns' and the Ancient One's eyes widen.

"There must be dozens!" a baffled Sterns exclaims.

"You used the face of Dormammu, Lord of Evil and Ruler of the Dark Dimension, as a _scoring board_?" a stunned Ancient One asks.

"Yes. To both of those. But these marks only show the lives in which I actually managed to hit him. I lost track of the amount of times that he managed to kill _me_ before I could hit _him_ at all. It got rather annoying after a while, because now my scoring method to keep track of my deaths had become completely useless." I explain in an intentionally nonchalant tone, inwardly pleased when I take in their shocked expressions.

"Michael… are you alright?" Sterns' sincere concern cuts right through my attempts at levity (mostly to keep my mind off the bombshell about my _children_ ) and I drop all pretense as I look him in the eye and clasp his shoulder.

"I wasn't. Not for a long time, as much as that is applicable to what I went through. I managed to get better on my own, but I wasn't _alright_ yet. More like a broken bone that had grown back slightly off. But _here_ … I'm already feeling better Sterns. And I'll continue to feel better, bit by bit, day by day. Until _someday_ , you'll ask me if I'm alright, and I can truly answer 'yes, I am.' So, stop worrying so much, alright?" I say with a soft smile, and Sterns chuckles in response.

"You're sorta asking me to do the impossible here, you know. Especially because you keep coming up with new and inventive ways to keep me in a perpetually worried state. A certain miracle metal in a certain conversation concerning a certain someone's skeleton comes to mind…" he says with a smirk, getting a deep laugh from me.

"I know Sterns. Thank you. I'll be doing a lot better with my best friend at my side. Especially if I have to prepare for raising _three_ kids instead of one. Which hopefully will go a lot better with you there. After all, those kids could really use a Godfather." I say with a smile, which widens when I see his slack-jawed expression.

"Really… _me_? I get to be their Godfather?" Sterns asks softly, his eyes filled with wonder as a massive grin starts to show on his face.

"Yes, you. Jess and I talked a bit about who we wanted as Godfather and Godmother before you and I left for Outer Space. You're my _best friend_. Who else was I gonna ask?" I say with a smile, Sterns responding in kind.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say, before he rushes forwards and hugs me tightly. He takes me by surprise (I almost knee him in the face out of reflex), but I quickly relax and embrace him as well, clapping him on the back a few times.

When he steps away from me, his eyes are watery, but his grin is still firmly in place.

"Those kids are gonna have the greatest Godfather _ever_! I'm sorry, but I'm gonna do my very best to spoil 'em rotten." He says with a smile, getting a chuckle from me.

"Fine, fine. As long as you don't give them railguns before they're twelve, I'm alright with it."

We share a chuckle, before I look towards the Ancient One. She seems pensive, but looks up at me when she feels my eyes on her.

"I won't pretend that I approve of what you did with Jessica and the Spirit of Vengeance. But I also won't deny that without this Amulet, I wouldn't have been able to fight of Dormammu as I have. So, considering I'll need an expert on the mystical forces of the multiverse to fully take care of my kids, I have found a way for you to pay me back: how do you feel about being a Fairy Godmother?"

The Ancient One's expression briefly turns bemused, the corners of her thin lips twitching upwards, before her eyes flick from the Amulet to my face and back again. For a long moment she seems to contemplate something, before a worrying gleam of amusement enters her eyes.

"Very well. I shall be the Fairy Godmother to Helios, Selene and Eos. As for spoiling them rotten… I make no promises."

Relieved that the Ancient One didn't decide to fight me for possession of the Eye of Agamotto (for now, at least) I chuckle as I lean back against the low balustrade, going over these most recent revelations in my mind.

The fate of my child (or rather, _children_ ) would undoubtedly have far-reaching consequences down the line, but for now I simply had to be content with the fact that they appeared to be strong and healthy. I would have to worry about them at a later time. For the coming weeks, I would need my full attention to make sure humanity kept moving forwards, instead of being caught up in their fear, leading to stagnation (or _worse_ ) should they give into it.

' _The future is looking rather… busy.'_ I mused as I looked back up at the sun and allowed its golden rays to sink into my skin.

* * *

 **May 6** **th** **, 2013, 7:25**

 **One day after Hell Week**

 **Down-town Manhattan**

I floated high above the city in silence, as I contemplated the events of yesterday. Between my harrowing experience in the Dark Dimension, my emotional argument with the Ghost Rider/Jessica when I came back and the sheer magnitude of the spell I had performed to repair New York City and I had been dead on my feet

Throw the revelations about my children on top of that and I think I could be forgiven for wanting to hide away from the world for just a little bit.

After giving a general statement to the press (if you could call four wide-eyed, foolishly brave reporters 'the press' that is) and dumping the data logs of my armor on Phineas, I had gone to bed, trying to get some sleep.

At first, it didn't come to me, no matter how exhausted I was.

It wasn't just the whirlwind of thoughts rampaging through my mind that caused my insomnia. My eyes kept flashing towards the shadowed corners of the room, my entire body tensed when I thought I heard the sound of skittering legs and whenever I tried to close my eyes for any length of time, I just kept getting more and more distressed, feeling as if fangs and teeth and laser-beams were just moments away from punching through my skin.

After I had slammed _Harpe_ through my bedroom floor because I spotted a little spider, I had had enough and used my psychokinetic powers to put myself in a dreamless sleep.

Self-hypnosis, just taken a step further than usual.

It meant that, instead of sleeping three ours like I normally did, I had been out cold for nearly _ten_. When I had woken up with a scream, Sterns and Harper had barreled into my room only seconds after, worry clear on their faces (well, Sterns at least. Harper's eyes were just a little wider than usual and his lips were pressed thin together).

After assuring them that I was (somewhat) fine, they quickly briefed me on the situation outside which was… not as bad as I had feared.

Society hadn't collapsed, no new enemy had popped up to take advantage of the general confusion and fear while Earth's defenders were still reeling and the sky hadn't come falling down.

Still, with Phineas being hooked into several of SHIELD's and various world Government's systems, (not to mention everything that Jane Foster relayed back to Othrys) I knew that trouble might not be far away. The way that the US Government was leaning on the Avengers to lean on me in turn was both worrying and suspicious. I suspected someone pulling strings behind the scenes to form some sort of confrontation, and considering the universe I was in, I had a fairly good idea about who that someone (or _someones_ ) could be.

And things would probably only get worse once other Governments, the UN and the overseers of the PDF started chipping in as well. Defusing the situation was possible, but time-consuming and it was likely to require concessions that I simply didn't want to make.

I had already given various military branches significant amounts of futuristic tech, more than they would've had in the canon timeline, especially concerning the formation of the PDF, which was mostly made with reverse engineered Chitauri tech and whatever prototypes the Governments involved were willing to share, all facilitated and made actually usable by the know-how from Othrys.

Of course, no-one else on the planet had any idea about what the canon-timeline was supposed to even look like (with the exception of the Ancient One, but she had by now given up her boost to her precognitive powers), so that knowledge didn't really help me here.

All that humanity saw now was that truly staggering levels of (fire)power were focused within a single organization (or rather one _person_ ) who wasn't willing to share more than what to _them_ would've looked like breadcrumbs, not knowing how their alternate counterparts on an Earth without me were far worse off than they were.

A problem for another day, I had decided, simply instructing my trusted employees to keep working to maintain the current status quo. As long as the authorities didn't try to push me, I wouldn't escalate.

A far more delicate situation were my… well, there's no real other word for it, I suppose.

My _worshippers_.

I had been anxious when I had first revealed myself to the world after collecting Burstein and settling in New York, but I had also ended up liking the fame that it had brought with it. (Almost) all humans love being the center of attention after all. Have dreams of adoring fans and red-carpet walks.

But _this_. This wasn't merely fame. These weren't merely _fans_.

They considered me their _God_.

True, with varying levels of fanaticism, from just general relief at my existence to unsettling zealousness to serve me, but still… I hadn't planned for this to happen.

Not _yet_ at least.

When I had finished my Twelve Step Program, when I had _truly_ achieved Omnipotence, then yes, I would've become the God-Emperor of Mankind. It was either that or fuck off to some asteroid floating in space pondering deep philosophical questions about life, death and everything in between.

But right now? I wasn't ready yet. Not that the idea wasn't appealing, but setting up a religion was _not_ what I expected I would be faced with when I returned to Earth. There was still research to be done. Still scientists to gather, technology to invent or reverse engineer, genetic powers to be unlocked.

I still needed to become… _more_.

For fucks sakes, I hadn't even wanted to become the CEO of the company that _I_ set up in the first place and these people just think that they can plop a religious cult in my lap?! But of course, they weren't going to wait for me until I was good and ready for them. Humanity had collectively gone through yet another one of the most massive paradigm-shifts in history in the span of only two years. Entire worldviews had been shattered, slowly been built back up from scratch, only to be wholly shattered _again_. They wanted a beacon of hope, something to latch onto and remove this gnawing existential dread from their very souls and I would just have to do.

Which meant that I had to act, as soon as possible. I had to say, had to do _something_. Even if it was only a single command, like "just don't try to be an asshole and you're good". _Anything_ at all would do, because if I did _nothing_ , then chaos was sure to follow.

But how to go about it?

Giving a deep sigh, I briefly considered that maybe going to Thor to ask for his advice/experience wasn't such a bad idea. Merely running away from Othrys and its avalanche of urgent matters that were threatening to crash over me while I was still trying to recover from my stint in the Dark Dimension wasn't doing any good to anyone.

I start flying lower, until the sky scrapers of New York start rising up beside me, my HUD rapidly scanning the roads underneath me, showing me the rivers of people that are moving back into their city and their homes.

The sheer magnitude of people out on the streets means that it's pure chaos, despite the best efforts of the Army and what little was left of the police (given that they had been the first line of defense when Shuri opened the gate to Hell, their numbers had taken a catastrophic hit). Still, my HUD easily picks out individual faces, running them through my recognition software, searching for my target.

As I did, my HUD also pointed out those in the Military who had been enhanced during Hell Week in some way from the military and SHIELD's own hidden stashes of prototypes. With many of them, those upgrades had been erased when I had de-aged their bodies (such as the three that had been enhanced with the little bit of Supersoldier Serum that remained in the Army's possession after Ross had wasted most their stash on Blonksy), which is probably where part of the military's sudden animosity towards me stemmed from: just a single augmented soldier had been worth tens of millions of dollars.

To throw every last scrap of technology that you had at an enemy, only to be saved by someone else who then simply _erases_ most of that technology was understandably galling.

Understandable, but no less annoying.

Now, the only reason I even knew who had been enhanced was because Phineas had flagged them with his legion of drones during Hell Week. Some of the enhanced soldiers were easier to identify than others though, mostly those that had been cybernetically augmented with artificial organs and limbs.

Those were the ones that were sitting with thousand-yard stares as they looked at their own body as if they didn't really recognize it, often close to a crate in which a futuristic limb was resting.

One memorable guy was a young soldier sitting on his bunk with a mechanical heart in one hand and softly rubbing his chest with the other, the look in his eyes showing that his mind was somewhere very far away.

Pouring on a bit more speed, I rocket down the streets, making twists and turns in search of my actual target.

I had needed an excuse to get out of Othrys and from underneath Hogarth's and Sterns' scheming (we all knew that I would just end up approving their strategies for better PR and public opinion anyways), and while this matter would usually have been beneath my notice, my target's identity gave me a credible reason to track them down _personally_.

After less than fifteen minutes of cruising above New York's clogged streets, I found her. She was in one of the military defense posts that were being disarmed, but not wholly dismantled until the presence of soldiers was no longer required to keep the peace. Despite being a lithe woman who just barely reached my sternum, she was hauling a crate that was probably twice her weight with an unnatural ease.

It was a testament to what the soldiers there had gone through that they barely batted an eye at the sight.

Still didn't prepare them for me just plummeting down from the sky, catching myself a few feet above the ground so I didn't destroy the newly repaired tarmac. Ignoring their wide-eyed gazes and awed looks, I instead focus on the blonde in front of me, who nearly threw her crate in the air with a shriek as she clasps one hand in front of her mouth.

Floating a little forward and subtly throwing up the same privacy ward I had used when last talking to Jessica, I allowed my faceplate to fold away, showing my grim smile and ominously glowing eyes.

"Hello Trish. I'd like to have a word with you."

Trish Walker, beauty extraordinaire and currently holding up a 250 pound crate with just one hand, looks like a kid caught with its hand in the cookie jar as she slowly glances between said crate and my face with a horrified look.

"Michael! Listen, I-"

I silence her just by raising a hand, my fake smile disappearing in favor of a severe scowl.

"Save it. Burstein already told me everything that happened."

"I was just trying to _help_ -!"

"You _stole_ from me. Both of you did."

Trish's eyes widen at that, before a resigned expression comes on her face.

"Look… I get it, ok? What _I_ did was wrong, so take it out on me, alright? Yes, Burstein gave me the Supersoldier Serum, but only because _I_ pushed him for it in the first place! I… I take full responsibility." The blonde says quickly.

Giving her a once over, my expression softens as I approach her.

"Good. You _do_ realize _why_ I'm so angry at you taking the Serum without my permission? Penalizing you without you even knowing what for is just going to end up counterproductive."

Trish allows the heavy crate to drop to the floor (I see a few soldiers wince out of the corner of my eye), before she flops down on it with a downcast expression.

"Like you said: I stole it. The Serum is your property, you can't just barge in and take it."

"Burstein?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, getting a nod and a shaky smile in return.

"Pretty much word for word. I knew that I was going to get in trouble the moment I decided on what I was going to do, Michael. Didn't stop me from doing it. I wanted to help people, _you_ had the required stuff to allow me to do so. I wasn't going to hide in Othrys' basement while my own sister was killing demons left and right with her bare hands!"

For a moment, I just stare at the blonde as she throws her hands in the air out of frustration, before crossing them over her knees again. Slowly, I turn and take a seat next to her on the crate. Briefly it groans under my weight, so with an annoyed grunt I levitate myself a little, basically crouching instead of sitting.

Trish gives a brief smile at the sight, but it quickly fades when I focus back on her.

"It's more than just breaking the rules, Trish. Anyone else in Othrys' forces did the shit you pulled, they'd be answering to Harper right now. He'd probably have them doing Hysminai-level endurance and combat drills just to teach them a lesson. Think you can tell me why I came to visit _you_ personally?"

She opens her mouth almost immediately, ready to give the obvious answer (because she's Jessica's sister), but the words don't come out when she actually gives it some thought. I wouldn't be placing so much emphasis on my presence here and my anger at her if it was merely that.

Trish might have had her fair share of problems during her life, but she's always been rather intelligent.

I can see she gets to the answer when her expression closes off and she huddles in on herself.

"Because of my dru-… because of my past." She says in a low voice, and I can see her gaze dart from underneath her lashes to take in the closest soldiers (who are painfully obvious in how they're trying _not_ to look our way).

"I cast a spell: they can't hear us." I reassure her, and her stance loosens somewhat, though she doesn't look up at me.

"Yes, your history is part of the reason. Your… _complex_ relation with your sister is another. Believe me, I _know_ what it is like to look at someone and realize that _no matter_ what it is you do, no matter how smart or strong you strive to be, you'll just never stack up against them. That what they can do will be _forever_ out of your reach. So I can _understand_ why you wanted to change that, I would be a hypocrite if I didn't. But your sister is another part of the reason I came to see you personally."

Waiting until she glances up at me, I continue.

"She loves you, Trish. Right on this crate are the two people that she cares the most about in the entire universe, until she gives birth that is. Can you imagine what it would've done to her if she had to find your body somewhere on the front lines? Taking the Serum gave you power, yes, but it hardly gave you the experience needed to run into the fray battling _literal demons from Hell_. You need to be more careful with what you do with your life, Trish: you're not the only person that cares about it."

Trish's eyes become misty at that, and I don't press her when she briefly turns away from me, hiding her face behind her bangs as she quickly rubs her hands across her face. I ignore the slight sniffling as she tries to regain her composure.

"I get it." She says, her voice thick with emotion.

"It's not like I _threw_ myself into the front lines. I hung back, helped out where I could. Saved people from buildings and car wrecks. Hauled defense platforms into place. Stuff like that. I'm not _suicidal_."

I give a non-committal hum, looking out at the edge of the army encampment, where an enormous crowd has steadily been forming, more and more people pulling away from the enormous river of humans that are trying to find their way home to stand and gawk at me.

"How many did you kill?"

For a moment, Trish is silent, before answering me in a very small voice.

"Twenty-three."

"How did it feel?"

"… good."

Again I hum as I mull over what to do with Trish. Letting her just get away with what she did would set a bad precedent, but like I said, I understood where she was coming from and she _was_ Jess' sister. It didn't feel right to be too harsh on her.

Clapping my hands (making Trish shoot almost three feet up in the air out of surprise), I straighten to my full height, before glancing down at the petite woman.

"Very well. You want to help? I'll give you the chance to prove that you can. Finish up whatever you were doing here, then report to Othrys. You're under house-arrest. Phineas will be keeping an eye on you at nearly all times, bed- and bathroom excluded of course. You'll regularly see a therapist to work through the same issues that led to your previous form of substance abuse. And I'm handing you off to Harper. Your ass is his. You wanna be a hero? He'll beat you into shape. _Literally_."

Trish's look of horror feels as sweet, sweet victory to me and I give her an enormous grin as she shrinks in on herself.

"I understand. Thanks Michael… for not… you know, blasting me with the power of the Sun or something."

I watch as she gets up from the crate, slinging it onto her shoulder again, all the while her face the very essence of the word 'down-trodden'. Despite my best efforts, it pulls at my heartstrings and deciding to cheer her up a bit, I halt her in her tracks by laying one of my massive paws on her tiny shoulder.

"Trish. I don't know if she mentioned this, but before I left for Space, Jess and I had been talking. It was supposed to be a surprise, you know, for when the baby was about to come. But I feel you should hear it now: we've settled on who we want as Godfather and Godmother. Congratulations: three superpowered little tykes are gonna be looking up to you soon."

She nearly drops the crate again as her mouth falls open in surprise.

"What?! Seriously?! Oh my-… wait, _three_?"

Giving her a cheeky wave, I bend my knees and push off, her scream falling away behind me as I soar towards the sky.

"MICHAEL!"

* * *

 **May 7** **th** **, 12:15**

 **Two days after Hell Week**

 **My office, Othrys**

I'm leaning back in my luxurious chair as I let my eyes roam across the myriad of screens that are floating above my appropriately humongous desk. They display lists detailing the affairs that Othrys is involved with, and who's doing the involving. The majority concern the projects that Othrys is producing. While we mostly outsource the actual production to larger companies all over the world, there's still a lot that's built in-house, Melvin Potter's Forges always lit and firing away.

It's the smaller, more delicate stuff, mostly. Exotic materials, compact generators, advanced interfaces and more (I easily spot the schematics for building a fully-functional _lightsaber_ that Radcliffe tried to pass off as merely an experiment using super-shaped plasma, but I decide to let it slide). The big things (such as the rebuilding of Manhattan following the One Day War using highly durable materials) are done by others using designs that they bought from us, most of them paying us a small fortune in royalties for the materials and the means to produce them.

Of course, after that they payed us _another_ small fortune for the technical know-how in how to actually _use_ those as well.

Hogarth was a shark swimming in bureaucratic waters and I was reminded of how glad I was she was on my side (though the idea wasn't new, as Erik Killmonger has been doing something similar with the limited amounts of raw Vibranium he has been selling).

Other screens showcase the research that Othrys is doing, and the parts of it that it is publishing. The details surrounding the superpowers granted by our various serums for instance will remain secret, since I don't trust some hidden genius out there to reverse engineer them based on our papers. Other things, like the various alien languages, histories and socio-economic and political systems that Sterns lifted from Sakaar's and Xandar's databanks will be spread throughout the world. Ever since I had gone public, many of my researchers have been asked to be key-note speakers at various conferences all around the world on the most varied of topics.

I usually just ended up sending some of my Think Tank's assistants, since my core group of scientists are far more useful inside Othrys than going around the globe delivering speeches. However, Sterns had recently impressed on me that a more visible presence of Othrys' enhanced inner circle would go a long way to make us seem more relatable to the people, taking away some of the insecurities that some parts of humanity were now feeling towards us (or rather, _me_ ).

While Othrys' numbers have continued to swell, the amount of enhanced has grown much more slowly. The rise in population was a necessary by-product of recruiting more people and taking on more projects. When we first made the move from the destroyed tannery to the island, most scientists in my Think Tank had two assistants at the most. Now those assistants were heading their own projects (though they mostly dealt with regular science instead of SCIENCE!) and all of them had half a dozen assistants of their own beneath them as well. Then there were the families of my employees, who more often than not decided to move in as well. Then there was the Legal Team that had been basically dropped off at my doorstep by Hogarth and when she learned that I hadn't objected beyond an annoyed 'hey!' she had dropped of a (thankfully _smaller_ ) PR team as well.

Instances like this had meant that Ohtrys had slowly been filling up with people for nearly two years now, and the longer they stayed here, the more likely they were to apply for enhancements. I barely even bothered dealing with those applications myself anymore: I trusted my Think Tank, Phineas and Harper enough to make the right choice in granting someone low-level enhancements or not.

I was only asked to chip in when it concerned the higher-level enhancements (like the instance with unlocking Skye's and Darryl's Inhuman powers) or when someone wanted more than a single one.

To this day, I have only declined two of such requests.

The reason why I have a screen with the internal make-up of Othrys opened as well is because of what's happening _outside_ of Othrys. On the bank of the East River, where Charon usually moors his ferry, there's a crowd of _hundreds_ and their number keeps growing steadily by the minute.

Observing them through the swathe of security features that Radcliffe had installed when we had first begun building my fortress, I can see why most of them are here.

They have bodies with them.

Crying women lead stretchers with pristine corpses on them, sobbing men hold tiny figures in their arms. Many of them have either the logo of my company written somewhere on their clothing and more than a few carry a sun-symbol in some fashion, either as a pin or on a necklace and one guy even has a carboard cut-out on a stick.

My worshippers as well as those who are simply grieving and desperate.

I observe a third group with somewhat morbid fascination: people with coolboxes and clipboards trying to make their through the crowd, talking to those carrying the corpses of their dead family and friends, desperately addressing them and pointing at the coolboxes.

Most of those conversations end ugly as emotions are running high. As expected: the last thing you want to see when you're standing _this_ close to your last shot, your final piece of hope, is someone who begs you to approve the removal of organs for transplants. When the news of the healthy looking dead had fully spread, people working with hospitals had seen a rather unsettling but undeniably pragmatic way to at least gain _some_ good from all this tragedy.

After all, there was no shortage of people who could be helped when thousands of mint-condition organs suddenly became available.

Those with donor cards were swiftly taken away, but in most other cases, the remaining family members were often loath to give up the bodies of their loved ones, probably due to how… normal they looked. But, I now realize, also because quite a lot of them had managed to cling to _one_ last shred of hope.

Me.

And a disturbingly large amount of those people was now standing on my docks. It had been only a group of twenty last night when I went to bed, and not really wishing to deal with them (nor exactly knowing _how_ to as well), I had foolishly ignored them, hoping that they'd go away on their own. Now there's a line of humans stretching up and down the East River, all of them calling out to Charon's ferry, begging him to dock his boat so that they can come to Othrys.

They want me to revive their dead.

Spooked by the masses on shore and unsure of what to do, Charon kept his boat (which he insisted on calling Styx, even though the inaccuracy of it had been pointed out to him. _Repeatedly_ ) roughly in the middle of the river and contacted Othrys.

I saw on my screens how Phineas put him through to Harper, but then I decided that I could no longer turn away from this problem. This responsibility.

"Phineas. Tell Harper and Charon that I'll deal with it." I say as I get up out of my chair and walk out of my office.

"Sure thing, Michael."

In under two minutes, I've flown out of Othrys' entrance hall and am on my way to where the masses were huddled up on the shore, their number now almost reaching a thousand. And still, more were coming in every moment. I rocketed over Styx, leaving it behind me, focusing instead on the people who were jumping and cheering as they saw me approach.

There was a lot of shoving and awkward shuffling involved when I slowly descended towards the docks, people scrambling to leave some room for me to actually stand on. I hadn't really wanted to get this close to such a huge amount of people (the way they were pressed together and the way some of them reached out to me brought up… bad memories), but I felt that hovering over them like a Messiah was something only a pretentious dick would do and actually standing on top of the water wouldn't have been much better.

The moment my armored boots hit the concrete, the crowd surges forwards again, and I have to clench every muscle in my body to keep myself from whipping out _Harpe_ and scything them down by the dozen at their sudden movement. Instead, I focus on one of my newest tricks.

My weapons are always on me, miniaturized and hidden away in my Aurelion Armor. I'm still in constant contact with them though, and subsequently, with the Power Stone in my Shield. With a pulse of my will, the Stone flares up unnoticed, and I can feel its energy dance over my skin. I take a deep breath, focusing deeply and with a not insignificant amount of effort, draw that energy inwards, leeching it off the Power Stone. I can feel how instead of washing over me and through me, it falls _into_ me, becoming a part of me, becoming _my_ energy.

Swirling it around in my body like you would do with a fine wine in your mouth (or like you would with mouthwash if you wanna be gross about it), I force the energy upwards with a flex of my will, centering it around my throat.

And then, I speak. No, let me rephrase that. I **Speak**.

"PEOPLE. PLEASE. I UNDERSTAND YOUR GRIEF. YOUR FEAR. YOUR PAIN. I UNDERSTAND WHY YOU WOULD LOOK TO ME. BUT WHAT YOU ASK OF ME… I CANNOT GIVE YOU. I CANNOT BRING BACK THOSE WHOSE SOULS HAVE ALREADY PASSED TO THE AFTERLIFE. THEY ARE TRULY DEAD, AND THEY SHALL REMAIN SUCH. I REALIZE THAT THIS IS NOT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR, BUT DEATH IS AS MUCH A PART OF LIFE AS THE AIR YOU BREATH OR THE GROUND THAT YOU STAND UPON. THAT PAIN THAT YOU ALL FEEL? THAT CAN ONLY TRULY HEAL ONCE YOU ACCEPT THIS FACT AND MAKE PEACE WITH IT."

The people closest to me shrink back due to the sheer Power that's behind each and every word I say, as if I'm talking through a ridiculously overpowered megaphone, an almost physical force impacting them.

For a moment the crowd is silenced, only broken by the soft sobs of those who just had their last hope utterly crushed, before a middle-aged man a few rows further back speaks up.

"Didn't you save everyone!? Everyone's healed! All the buildings are back! Why not our people?!"

"TONY STARK HIMSELF ASKED ME MUCH THE SAME AFTER I RETURNED FROM THE DARK DIMENSION. I'LL SAY TO YOU WHAT I SAID TO HIM: YOU HAVE SOULS. THEY EXIST WITHIN YOU, UNTIL YOU DIE, AFTER WHICH THEY WILL MOVE ON TO ANOTHER PLANE OF EXISTENCE. MY SPELL MERELY TURNED BACK TIME ON THE MATERIAL THINGS WITHIN _THIS_ PLANE OF EXISTENCE. THEIR SOULS HAVE MOVED ON AND ARE NOW BEYOND MY REACH."

"Where did they go?! Did you save them?! Did you save their souls?! Did you save them from going to Hell?!" another man yells out immediately.

The question causes a tide of murmuring and furtive glances to form, rippling through the assembled crowd.

Well… fuck. There's no good answer to this one, is there? Still, looking to be at a loss for words is probably even worse, so I try to answer nonetheless.

"WHERE SOMEONE'S SOUL GOES AFTER DEATH IS A HIGHLY COMPLICATED MATTER. IT DEPENDS LARGELY ON THEIR ACTS IN LIFE. A GOOD LIFE LEADS TO A GOOD AFTERLIFE. A BAD LIFE LEADS TO A BAD AFTERLIFE. IN EITHER CASE, I HAVE MERELY MADE SURE THAT SUCH EVIL PLANES DO NOT INTRUDE UPON _THIS_ LIFE."

"Who decides if their lives were good or bad?! You?!" a woman a few dozen feet to my left shouts and the crowd hushes as they anticipate my answer.

I was starting to regret coming here. The reason I had come personally in the first place was because I felt that _I_ should be the one to deal with this and that I would be the best choice to let them down easy and send them away gently, without causing them to start hating Othrys (and me). As I was going over available options to save the situation, one particular thought wormed its way to the forefront of my mind.

'… _I could_ _lie.'_ I realize.

They have no way of telling if I'm right or wrong after all. It surely would take away a lot of my headaches if I could just tell them what they wanted to hear and just be done with it all. As I contemplate it though, I think back to my friends. My family. They might not know for certain, but they'd immediately suspect that I would be bullshitting, using the grief of thousands just to make my own life easier.

The Ancient One. Sterns. Jessica.

They would know. Worse, what of my children? What would they end up thinking of me if I became a fraud, praying on people's hope, feeding off their faith. I'd be no better than those tv evangelists who ask for money so that they can "cure" someone of cancer and who just end up buying a couple of mansions for themselves.

No, I would become better. That's what I've been doing my entire life since I woke up in this universe, becoming _better_. Stronger, faster, tougher, smarter. I had sacrificed so much for it, nearly giving up what made me human. I had taken so much away from others. Perhaps _now_ was the time to grow better in other ways as well.

When Sterns and Jessica had finally confronted me a few months after the One Day War, I had vowed to Jessica that I would be the type of man that she could accept as the father to her child (or children, as it turned out to be). Saving Earth for the second time would go a long way of course, but I felt that how I handled _this_ would be a tipping point.

Then there were also the reports that Foster and Phineas had given me to consider. Claiming to be a God and placing myself at the head of a cult millions strong, right when the people in power were warier of me and the potential danger that I represented than ever before?

Yeah, I don't need that headache.

So, I took a deep breath and focused back on the crowd.

"NO. I DO NOT JUDGE THEM. THEY ARE JUDGED BY WHATEVER ENTITY THAT THEY BELIEVE IN THAT HAS AUTHORITY OVER THEM AND THAT HAS THE POWER TO MANIPULATE THE EXISTENCE WITHIN AND BEYOND THE ASTRAL PLANE TO HOUSE THEIR SOUL IN AN AFTERLIFE. I DO NOT HAVE THAT POWER. VERY FEW BEINGS DO."

I can feel the shock and disappointment crash through the crowd, but before the murmurs can start up, I continue.

"I KNOW THAT THIS MUST SADDEN YOU. I KNOW THAT MANY OF YOU HAVE PLACED YOUR LAST HOPES IN ME, AFTER SEEING ME BEAT BACK BOTH DEMON HORDES. I'M SORRY THAT I AM NOT AS POWERFUL AS YOU WISH FOR ME TO BE."

Tears are flowing freely amongst the crowd as many of them start to realize that their last shred of hope, their last hail-Mary, has been for nothing. As I'm still feeling them out with my telepathy, I'm nearly overwhelmed when I'm confronted with a tsunami of grief and hopelessness. Seeing these desperate people, looking up at _me_ with tear-filled eyes…

' _Oh, I'm going to regret this, aren't I?'_

"I KNOW THAT MANY OF YOU MUST HAVE QUESTIONS. A _LOT_ OF QUESTIONS. I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO BRING BACK YOUR LOVED ONES, BUT I MAY BE ABLE TO ANSWER A FEW OF THEM AND HOPEFULLY THIS WILL HELP YOU WORK THROUGH THE PAIN OF LOSING THEM."

Looking around the hushed crowd, I continue, my tone softer but my voice no less powerful.

"TO THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE STILL HURTING… WHO ARE STILL SEARCHING FOR SOMETHING TO TAKE AWAY THE PAIN, TO RETURN A SENSE OF MEANING AND NORMALCY TO YOUR LIFE… YOU ARE FREE TO TRAVEL ABOARD THE STYX TOWARDS OTHRYS, WHERE MY PEOPLE AND I SHALL DO OUR BEST TO HELP YOU. ANY QUESTIONS YOU MAY HAVE, WE SHALL TRY TO ANSWER. IF YOU MERELY WISH TO SPEAK INSTEAD, TO RAGE AGAINST THE HEAVENS THEMSELVES, THEN WE WILL LISTEN. MY HOPE IS THAT, ONCE YOU LEAVE OTHRYS, YOU'LL FIND THAT THE BURDEN ON YOUR HEART HAS BEEN SLIGHTLY LIGHTENED."

A ragged cheer goes up amongst the gathered people, as some of them tearfully hug each other while others slowly slink away back to their homes in grief and hopelessness, cradling their lifeless loved ones close to them.

Seeing Charon already maneuvering the Styx closer so that it can dock (he could probably hear the whole thing) and the hopefulness and glee that its approach brings to the remaining people, I consider the possibility that this _may_ not be as bad as I feared.

* * *

 **May 7** **th** **, 18:45**

 **On a balcony overlooking the grounds just outside of Othrys**

"I'm regretting this already."

"Well, you _did_ promise a couple of thousand people that you would help them work through their grief, sir. And considering how many people here wear some sort of symbol referencing the sun, and you may have just accidentally given your tacit approval of a religious cult devoted to honoring you. That might cause some… excitement, you see."

"I get that Harper. It isn't that I hadn't thought about the possibility of this happening. It just… it had felt like the right thing to say at the time, alright?"

"If you say so, sir."

I glance from the corner of my eye at the youthful looking veteran at my side. Like me, he's standing on the ramparts surrounding Othrys' outer walls, looking down at the field that separates my fortress from the jungle surrounding it.

The field is absolutely _covered_ in humans. Thankfully they're keeping clear from the jungle, which is somewhat agitated due to all the ruckus happening on the island, but I sent Hansen, Burstein and Groot in there to quiet the trees and shrubbery down.

And that's a good thing to, considering the amount of people that don't even known how close to danger they are.

After my declaration, the people who had come because they thought I was a God had been even _more_ eager to travel to Othrys. Rationalizing that I couldn't talk to all of them out here on the docks all at once, I had ordered Charon to take them to the island one group at a time, no more than Styx could comfortably carry in a single trip. Hopefully, I could counsel a few hundred at a time, get them focused on looking towards the future again and the possibilities and responsibilities that it brought with it and then send them on their way. The idea was that they would then spread the word, repeating what I've told them and helping each other work through their own grief and slowly the healing process would continue on its own, without direct interference from my part.

That had been nearly seven hours ago. There have been over twenty trips back and forth.

I briefly entertained the idea of speaking to every person one on one, using the Time Stone to get to all of them far faster than physically possible (I could hear Einstein roll in his grave when I simply _thought_ of messing with Time like that), but not only did that sound utterly draining, it also meant using the Eye of Agamotto.

A _lot_.

I haven't seen the Ancient One yet since two days ago, and I was thankful (though somewhat confused) that she didn't immediately demand the powerful Amulet back right then and there. But such… casual use of the greatest artefact of her order, hundreds of times in a single day?

Yeah, Fairy Godmother or no, I wasn't taking my chances on her just letting that slide.

So, I talked to several groups at once, using my telepathy to tune in on the thoughts of those who were grieving, trying to find a balance between what they _wanted_ to hear and what they _needed_ to hear. Simultaneously I tried to somewhat dissuade the people there that were part of the cult that had been set up in my name. Whenever they asked me religious focused questions, I tried to be as evasive and non-committal as possible, lest they take my words, write it in a book and start quoting passages from it every Sunday.

The fact that all of them were gathered here on my island in the first place was bad enough already, because it certainly seemed like I was allowing my cultists into my home and delivering sage advice to them, in a way (like Harper had pointed out) appearing to tacitly give this new religion my blessing.

And on and _on_ it went.

I realized that this religion wasn't going to go away any time soon: there were too many people, it was too widespread and it was hardly like I would fade away into obscurity. It would develop on its own, no matter how far I distanced myself from it, but my fear was that if I allowed that to happen, it would end up with the same bloody history that clung to every major religion that has ever existed on this planet.

Then again, the thought of setting up a theocracy here and now wasn't exactly appealing either.

So, in the end I just tried to subtly steer the way that the religion's values would end up evolving, carefully hinting at my stances regarding religion and worship whenever I was questioned about it (which was _often_ ). I tried to make it clear that I wouldn't demand devotion from them. Disregarding that I wasn't even a God like they thought I was, it simply didn't feel right for me to ask for it. If people wanted to pray, they were free to do so. If they didn't feel like it, then that was fine with me as well.

Try not to be an asshole to others, though if _they_ are acting like assholes, then feel free to point it out. Try to be friendly and helpful instead, but I'm not asking people to be saints and if you get tired of doing stuff for others all the time, then of course I would be understanding if you gave the world the finger and cocooned yourself in your home with your favorite blanket to snuggle up in and your favorite show to watch. Try to be respectful to others and don't harm animals unnecessarily, though eating farm animals and game was fine. Be mindful of the environment. Raise your kids to be good people. And eat all the pork you want, because honestly, why would I give a fuck?

In the words of a Clegane: "Don't be a cunt." I hadn't said that out loud of course (there had been _children_ present after all) but the sentiment of my first "commandments" basically boiled down to that.

There were some more organizational matter that people felt needed to be addressed, such as holidays, roles within the community and so on. I really didn't want to touch that with a ten-foot pole, since if I started getting involved in _that_ sort of thing, then before the year was out there would be a fully realized "Church for the Sun" or some shit like that. For now, I had implied (somewhat more strongly than I had actually intended) that Othrys could be seen as having the last say in the matters over which there was some _serious_ dispute.

If someone else other than a resident of Othrys started to dictate their life to them (on _religious_ grounds, that is, they still needed to obey cops and the like), then they had my explicit permission to punch that person in the face.

I wasn't going to allow pseudo-prophets to pop up around the world with their own truths, telling people what they thought that _I_ wanted from them. No way I was going to let someone _else_ dictate the type of God that I would be.

If I wasn't careful, people would be bringing human sacrifices back to mainstream popularity. By making sure that people had a place to go to in order to second-guess those people who would like to set themselves up as "authorities", I made sure that I could keep this cult from going completely of the rails, without having to dictate a heaping stack of commandments for them for every hour of the day.

Most of the questions that the swelling crowd had asked me had been along similar lines, to the point that after the fourth batch, I had opted to direct most of them towards Phineas, who took to dealing with the distraught and hopeful humans with gusto and after the eight round he had pretty much taken over the general forum. Those with more difficult or interesting questions he passed onto me.

For instance, one of them had been: "What do we do about Thor and the people that worship him? Do we need to worship him too? Do we need to try to convince those people to worship you instead?"

 _That_ one had taken me by surprise, I'll admit, but in the end, I had simply told the young man that Thor was an ally of Othrys and I considered him a friend. So, whether people decided to include him in their prayers was entirely up to them, I wouldn't mind either way. Meaning that no, I didn't want my people "convincing" others to switch religion either. What people believed in was their business, as long as it made them happy and it didn't hurt anyone.

My hope was that this religion would have no need of missionaries. When I had my new body (and I was _so_ close to realizing it!) and became _fully_ omnipotent, every single human on the planet would know my power anyway and have the chance to decide whether or not they'd follow me.

And so it had gone on for hours, though there finally seemed to be a decline in numbers as the sun started to dip towards the horizon. I could only hope that I hadn't made a huge mistake which would end up with me being portrayed in the media as a rival to the pope or something. Considering how high-strung tensions were on the Government side of things, I really didn't need that shit right now. Hopefully, the people that had visited me today would take my veiled comments, interpret them like I had intended them to and start spreading them amongst like-minded people, making sure that, however the Hyperion-cult evolved, it would turn into something moderate and non-violent.

"Charon. Last call. Set this batch off at the shore. Don't pick up any new ones." I spoke up in a tired tone of voice, seemingly addressing the thin air.

A LED strip lining the balustrade I'm leaning on lights up as Phineas takes my message and sends it to Charon's phone, who answers almost immediately.

"Yes sir!"

For a moment, silence returns before I look at Harper, who merely raises his eyebrows at my serious expression.

"Harper. You don't think I'm a God, do you?"

My head of security looks baffled for just the briefest of seconds, before he lets out a scoff and shakes his head.

"Was brought up with only _one_ God by my Ma, sir. Kicked him to the curb the moment I left home to join the Army and never needed one since. I'm fine with that. I don't have a habit of kneeling, you see. Not for anyone, not even God. He wants me on my knees, he's gonna have to get his ass down here and break my legs first." The aged soldier says with a short, barking laugh, before he shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Right. So… that's a no then?" I ask, seeing how he glances at me from the corner of his eyes.

"Sir… _Michael_. I would follow you into Hell itself. That's good enough for me."

Considering this came from a man who had _literally_ seen Hell, a man who defined the very concept of 'stoic'… well, after the day(s) I've had, I thought I could be forgiven for being just a _little_ overemotional at his sincere words.

Harper didn't agree.

" _Sir._ Sir! Sir, no hugging!"

"Oh come on, Harper! Just this once!"

"Sir, respectfully, I _will_ punch you in the face."

Our impromptu little game of cat-and-mouse was abruptly halted by a commotion down on the grounds where the humans were still milling about. I couldn't see what was happening since people were crowding around _something_ , but it gave me a bad feeling in my stomach.

"Phineas!"

My friend didn't even reply with words: instead a screen popped up over the balustrade, showing the feed from one of his Soter-platforms down below, revealing the cause of all that commotion.

What I saw made me clench my fists as Extremis began to heat up my body.

"Fuck."

Without hesitation, I pushed off, rocketing towards the middle of the clustered humans. Once again, I leeched a bit of energy from the Power Stone and sent it towards my vocal chords as I quickly closed in on them.

" **MOVE!"**

They did. I landed in the cleared area almost immediately after, unbalancing many of the humans closest to me with the tremor from my impact. I wasn't looking at them however. I wasn't even looking at the slightly overweight, familiar blonde lying prone on the ground, clutching an obviously broken arm with soft moans of pain. I didn't even look at the two thrashed Soter platforms lying on the ground, reduced to warped metal plating and sparking wires.

No, I was looking at the cause of this whole mess. Said cause had just finished ripping Phineas head from his body (again), allowing the metallic body to fall to the floor as she crushed the square box of metal between her hands.

Her eyes focused back on the prone woman with a mad intensity.

" _You_! You are a _worthless_ excuse for a mother! She doesn't want you! She doesn't _need_ you! She'll have _me_!" the woman roared and with a snarl she drew back her arm to throw the scrap in her hands with deadly force and accuracy. Or she would have, if my enormous hand didn't engulf her entire forearm, halting her in her tracks.

She showed some impressive agility when she whirled around to face me, wild eyes set in a snarling face and framed by frizzy, unkempt hair.

"Hello Alisa."

In response, I got punched in the face. The force of the blow is… not insignificant, since I certainly felt it and it moved my head to the side, but after what I've endured in the Dark Dimension it isn't really anything special.

The crowd let out a shocked gasp when Jessica's mom hit me, but an oppressive silence falls over the clearing when I slowly turn my head, my broad chin forcing Alisa's fist back with apparent ease. I can see it register with her, the shock at my durability and strength visible in her wide eyes and chasing away the earlier haze of anger.

Seeing her eyes refocus on me, truly _seeing_ me for the first time, I can't really help myself. My eyes explode with heat, turning into two glowing orbs of power as a wide grin grows on my face.

"Huh. I can definitely see the family resemblance."

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Brett Dalton (the actor who plays Grant Ward in the Agents of SHIELD show) got his Master of the Fine Arts Degree at Yale School of Drama, where he was a classmate of Lupita Nyong'o, who plays Nakia in Black Panther.

 **AN:** So, I wanted to get more finished, but this chapter is getting long and I feel that this would be a nice place to end it. This was mostly introspection, showing the consequences of Hell Week on Michael's psyche and hopefully showing some Character Development (and of course, revealing what happened to the baby, I hope you guys enjoyed that twist :P). By cutting the chapter here, I hope to have the next chapter focus wholly on Michael growing in power once again, by recruiting scientists and technology that I had wanted to include in _this_ chapter. Hopefully I'll be able to include some pretty tense action in that chapter as well, not to mention a big action sequence that I'm looking forwards to. Cheers!

 _All of my thanks and gratitude to my lovely patrons! IronmanMarkIV, justlovereadin, Shaman95, Daniel Dorfman, Carn Krauss, DoctorTortoise, Sam, Thordur Hrafn, DavidJP, ReaperScythe, CJ Elsen, Devon, Khamalpreet Singh, Kyle Reese, RLStrained, Kahn, Vu, Roman Krupkin!_ _Thanks so much!_


	51. Two reunions and a funeral

_**Two reunions and a funeral**_

* * *

 **May 7** **th** **, 2013. 20:45**

Having your mentally unstable and superstrong mother-in-law sulking on a bench in your Entrance Hall after she socked you in the jaw within seconds of meeting you is something that I would've considered somewhat out of the ordinary in my previous life.

Now it was just the latest thing to happen in the crazy cascade of occurrences that my new life had become.

Looking away from the frustrated Alisa, I glance at Trish from the corner of my eye. The beautiful blonde is looking somewhat haggard, but it's impossible to tell whether it's from Harper's brutal training regimen or from her mother hanging pitifully on her arm.

A bit of both, probably.

Dorothy was cradling her arm (even though I made sure that it had fully healed already) and was glaring daggers at Alisa whenever she thought I wasn't looking, even though she was making sure that she kept Trish in between herself and Jessica's resurrected mom.

She even managed to summon a couple of tears whenever she did catch me looking in her direction, adding a few sniffles for dramatic effect.

It seems Trish isn't the only Walker with a knack for acting then.

"You good?" I rumble at what was technically my sister-in-law.

Trish looks conflicted, and I can spot the miniscule twitches in her muscles and overall stance as she slightly leans away from her mother. Clearly, she hasn't forgotten the abuse that her mother put her through during her childhood. Still, Dorothy _had_ been brutally attacked by Alisa, and it seemed for the best to just fix her up instead of sending her off to the mainland with a mangled arm.

"I will be. I'm tired though. I'm going to bed. Goodnight Michael, Alisa. …Mother."

And with those words, Trish smoothly moves her arm out of Dorothy's grip, quickly turning on her heel and stalking off towards the elevators at the far end of the Hall. Her mother seems gob-smacked for a moment, but a quick glance at Alisa's intensely focused expression quickly snaps her out of it.

"Wait! I came all this way just to see you, can't we first-"

"No, _Mom_! We can't! Because you _didn't_ come _just_ to see me, or Jess, did you?! Jess told me that you tried calling her just _days_ after she got on the news fighting off the Chitauri, after _years_ pretending she didn't even exist! She told me how you've tried to haunt her every step for a _year_! If it wasn't for Phineas and Othrys, you'd be pestering her every day, desperate to leech off of her fame, _just_ like you did with me! That's _all_ you are, just this… this… this _fucking_ _parasite_! Well, guess what, _mom_! Jess and I are doing _fine_ without you! _Better_ than fine: she's going to be a mom, and I've got powers and we'll _never_ look back at our fucked up childhood. We don't _need_ you in our life, and we don't _want_ you either! Just… just leave us alone." Trish finishes in an exhausted tone, the raging fire that filled her gaze slowly dissipating.

Not even bothering to give her mother a second look, she turns away and continues on to her room.

It's only my superior senses that allow me to pick up on her hitched breathing and the soft pattering sounds of tears falling against the marbled floor.

For a moment, the three of us merely look at Trish's retreating back in silence, before it's broken by the surprisingly dry voice of Alisa.

"I like her. She's got spirit."

Her words break the stunned Dorothy out of her funk, and she's quick to turn on the psychotic woman, who seems eager to respond to the challenge, leaping out of her seat with a worrying gleam in her eye. While Dorothy blanches and quickly tries to back away, Alisa doesn't seem to get far, seemingly frozen in place, even tilted forwards as she is.

Both women's eyes are wide as they stare at Alisa's frozen lunge, until I speak up, irritation clear in my voice.

"Sit. _Down_." I bite out, flexing my psychokinesis and shoving Alisa back down onto the bench.

Restraining a superstrong woman isn't the easiest task, but considering the fact that I've ripped entire skeletons of Eldritch Abominations straight out of their fleshy bodies, this was rather doable. Even if Alisa had managed to break my hold, I still had the Mind Stone to boost my powers, so there really wasn't any danger of her managing to get her hands on Dorothy's neck.

Not that I was going to tell Dorothy that. That woman could use some humbling. She could do with a _lot_ of humbling, actually.

I turn my heavy gaze on the woman in question, who seems to somewhat shrink in on herself, though she doesn't back away from me.

"Leave." I simply order, and despite her fear of me, Dorothy still tries to stand her ground.

"Surely I can at least stay the night? I'm an injured woman and-"

"Your arm has fully healed. You're not fooling anybody, cradling it like that. Your fine. _Physically_ at least."

"… but your ferry, it's closed for the rest of the day!" she's quick to respond, and though her face does an adequate job of hiding it, I can still pick up a sense of satisfaction from her defenseless mind.

I don't even bother responding this time, merely waving my hand in a circular motion, glowing sparks shooting off as I brush it through the air. Following my movements, a glowing circle springs into existence, large enough that I could walk through it without even having to duck my head. Briefly the air inside the casting circle shimmers, before the docks on the other side of the East River can be seen.

Looking back towards the gob smacked Dorothy, I merely raise a single eyebrow.

"Leave." I repeat, but from her emotions and swirling thoughts, I can tell that even now the woman is desperately trying to look for excuses to remain in Othrys.

Pity clearly didn't work, so instead she settles on… indignation, coupled with guilt? How is she gonna-

"Really now, young man! I took in your wife when she had no-one else! I'm her mother, _your_ mother-in-law! You have no right to treat me-!"

-Ah. Bad idea.

That's as far as she gets, because with an animalistic roar, Alisa has once again launched herself at Dorothy, her eyes wide and her fingers splayed. Her killing intent is clear to see, even to someone like Dorothy, who lets a terrified scream as she back-pedals fast enough to trip over her own feet.

This time I let Alisa get significantly closer before I once again shut her down with my telekinesis, her fingernails mere inches away from Dorothy's terrified eyes.

"You are _not_ her mother! I am! I am her mother, no-one else! She's _mine_!" the damaged woman screams, before I flex my power and she's sent careening back into her seat again, though this time I don't release my hold on her.

Looking at the prone Dorothy, who keeps staring wide-eyed at the fuming Alisa, I speak up, seeing her gaze snap towards me.

"I have every right to treat you this way, Miss Walker. In fact, it's _because_ of your relationship with Jessica and Trish, however toxic it may be, that I'm not treating you even _worse_. I'd just as happily hand you over to the police, or throw you into my dungeons, but even as much as they despise you, they still consider you their family, so they'd protest. That _doesn't_ mean that you are wanted in their lives and if I _ever_ catch you trying a stunt like this again, the police will be the _least_ of your worries."

I stalk closer to her, sinking to a knee and leaning forwards so that my burning eyes are less than a foot away from the prone Dorothy's wide-eyed and panicked look.

"The reason why I allow you to be treated this way is very simple, Miss Walker: you're an abuser. I _hate_ abusers." I growl out lowly, making sure only she can hear me, my eyes two burning infernos.

"… I… I'm not… I-I would never-" Dorothy stammers, but I shut her down with a single word.

"Fatty."

It takes a few moments before I see recognition flood her eyes and mind, and in a way that's even worse. It meant that this type of abuse of her own daughter, where she _forced_ Trish to throw up in order to slim down, was so _casual_ , so fucking _easy_ , she had forgotten about it completely.

"Get the _fuck_ off my Island."

More of my rage must've slipped into my voice than I had actually intended to, because Dorothy pales even further, before she scrambles to her feet without a word, nearly leaping through the portal without looking back. With a annoyed snort that sends steam blasting from my nostrils, I allow the portal to snap shut behind her, before I rise and look at the still bound Alisa.

Right. One less than ideal mom down. One more to go.

I quickly decide that, _whatever_ I'll end up deciding on doing about Alisa, it's better if I do it somewhere more private. The confrontation with Dorothy already had the majority of the people currently still in the Hall glancing our way with varying levels of subtlety (ranging from _barely_ to _nonexistent_ ). I anticipated that dealing with Alisa was definitely going to be _worse_ than that, and there was no need to have it out in public like this.

Loosening my psychic hold over the woman (though I'm keeping my powers ready to respond at a moment's notice) I quickly create a second portal, this one leading to my office.

"Follow me."

I don't bother looking over my shoulder as I step through the glowing ring of power and I don't need to: within moments I can feel Alisa quickly stand up and step through the portal after I went through. I let the portal snap shut as the soft LED's around my office smoothly light up, revealing the gleaming surfaces and intricate furniture, the very epitome of tasteful luxury.

Standing in the middle of it, the somewhat bedraggled Alisa Jones definitely appears out of place.

I let myself flop down on my favorite sofa in the lounge area of my office with a heaving sigh, easily picking up a crystal glass from a small table beside me, as the doors of my drinking cabinet seemingly open themselves, a fancy bottle flying out towards me. The top is quickly screwed off by an invisible force, before I extend my glass and allow myself to pour myself a generous helping of Limoncello, before I direct the bottle to gently land on the table at my side.

Telekinesis. Not only great at combating the evils of the multiverse, but also surprisingly effective at pouring yourself a drink when you don't want to get up from your comfy seat.

I suppose it could also work wonderfully in concert with a TV-remote for similar reasons, but since all devices in Othrys are voice-controlled, I haven't had an opportunity to try it out.

Raising the glass to my lips, I see that Alisa is still standing in the same spot, appearing somewhat… confused. I wonder why. Indicating the sofa on the other side of the coffee table across from me, I give her a rather pointed look.

"Sit."

She sniffs at the authorative tone, but nonetheless acquiesces, taking a careful seat across from me, one the very edge of the sofa, looking as if she's ready to bolt at any moment. I'll take it for now, I suppose, and gratefully knock back a significant part of my Limoncello, smacking my lips with a satisfied sigh.

For a moment, silence falls between us, before Alisa speaks up, sounding surprisingly calm and not… murder-y.

"Aren't you supposed to drink ridiculously expensive whiskey instead of… _whatever_ that is?" the superwoman asks with an arched eyebrow.

I let out a slight smirk as I look at the bottle beside me, my smile turning somewhat more wistful as I spot the hastily scribbled message written with marker in the margin of the label.

 _If I can't stop you from drinking crap, I can at least stop you from drinking_ _ **cheap**_ _crap. Am I the best or what? – Love, the greatest woman you've ever known_

"It's an acquired taste." I say softly, before looking back at my mother-in-law.

She seems unsure of what to do, and doesn't press me further, curling slightly in on herself as her eyes start flitting around the room. No doubt scanning for exits and defensive positions or something like that.

"Why are you here? Why now?" I suddenly ask tiredly.

I know that Alisa has an unhealthy obsession with Jessica, but I also thought that it was precisely because she feared that obsession that she's been staying out of Jess' life, scared of what she might do, who she might harm, if her instability makes her become volatile against her daughter's friends and loved ones.

While I never watched Jessica Jones Season 2, I _did_ read through the wiki and from what I remember, Alisa's fears were entirely grounded. Thinking on the Netflix shows is so… _weird_. They just used to be entertainment, a show that I'd watch from the comfort of my couch. Now I was starting a family with Jessica, I have utterly _decimated_ the Defender's overarching villains and probably butterflied away the plots of both Luke Cage and Iron Fist. As for Matt Murdoc and Wilson Fisk… honestly, considering how close I was to _finally_ completing the final Steps of my Plan, they were simply too far beneath my notice to bother worrying about.

One does not consider petty criminals and masked vigilantes when dealing with the balance of the universe.

I briefly wonder if any of them got any new seasons after the Defenders? Surely Daredevil would continue to pump out more episodes for _years_ to come. A critically acclaimed series connected to Disney's greatest cash-cow, shown on one of the most prolific streaming services in the world? Yeah, like anybody'd be stupid enough to mess with that.

Pushing the sudden thoughts about my past life away, I focus back on my current problem as Alisa hesitantly speaks up.

"I wanted to come here earlier. After the One Day War… after seeing her fight the Chitauri… Do you have any idea what it's like? To _know_ that your child, your little baby girl, thinks you're dead? That's _she's_ being forced to carry around that grief, because there's something wrong with _your_ mind? That you can only watch them live their lives away from you, grow up without you, slowly _forget_ you? It _hurts_ , Mister McCole. It hurts more than anything I have ever experienced. It _gnaws_ at you, easts at you, eroding who you are bit by bit, day by day. Forcing Jessica through that… was killing me slowly, ever so slowly. A cruel punishment, wouldn't you agree?" Alisa slowly says with a wavering voice, tears springing up in her eyes as she looks at me, desperation clear on her face.

"And at my deepest point of despair… _there_ she is! On TV! She's not hiding her power, but using them to _save_ people! Soaring through the skies, battering aliens left and right with her powers, a bastion for humanity… she was so beautiful. So _glorious_! _My_ baby girl. I… I had to try. I couldn't stay away any longer. But my mind… just wanting something isn't enough. I knew I would have to work for it. And I _did_! I trained, McCole! I trained until my hands were bleeding! I trained until my lungs were struggling! I trained until I thought my heart would explode! All just to control this power, to make it my own, just like my Jessica has done! I have issues, I know I do, but _I tried_!" she almost shouts, having sprung up from her seat as she tries to articulate the desperate _need_ she felt to reconnect to her daughter.

I simply raise a hand as I mention her to calm down, gently pushing her back down into her seat again, trying my best to send out positive empathic energies in order to lessen her stress. Fighting to the death for several centuries will do wonders for your combat-abilities, but it hardly leaves time to grind your empathy skills.

It's why I'm somewhat struggling in dealing with the news surrounding my children and the cult that had sprung up in my honor. Give me a fearsome beast and I'd have hundreds of new and gruesome ways to deal with it, but things like how to deal with being a dad to triplets or handling your own personal zealots without instigating a bloody massacre are hardly something that I've spent much thought on when I was being torn apart and eaten alive.

As Alisa takes her seat again, trying to regain control over her heavy breathing, the bottle behind me springs back into the air again, filling up my glass as I leisurely lean back into my seat, eyeing the woman across from me.

"Your control, or lack thereof, over your power isn't the issue, Alisa. Many people here in Othrys are fully capable of, and even used to, dealing with your levels of strength. It's your mentality. You are… well, you're-"

"Don't you _dare_ say I'm crazy!" Alisa warns me, nostrils flaring.

"Volatile then." I say instead, and Alisa grits her teeth before giving a reluctant nod.

"I _know_ that. I've been _trying_ but it's… difficult." She admits, before she sends me a determined glare.

"But I'm _not_ leaving! I've worked too hard for this! Besides, Jessica _needs_ me! If she's going to be a mom, then she'll need the support of her own mother!" Alisa is quick to state, apparently ready to defend her point of view with passion, but her voice dies in her throat when she sees the sudden rictus of sheer _rage_ in my expression.

The room's temperature skyrockets as the air around me begins to waver due to the heat I'm giving off. My eyes are twin suns as I snarl at the woman in front of me.

"If you come anywhere _near_ my children right now, _I'll spread your fucking ashes across the surface of the sun_." I seethe, before fighting back my own rage, quickly cooling down again, my Amber Armor efficiently trapping my heat inside my body.

Alisa seems shocked at my sudden outburst, and in the tense silence that follows I clear my throat.

"Of course, that being said, there should be no trouble _after_ you've been cured. I'd have to take a deeper look inside your brain and mentality, but isolating the damage and fixing it should be easily within my powers. Your unique physiology might complicate any physical remedies _slightly_ , but we have extensive data on your power due to Jessica, so that shouldn't slow us down much. Then there's of course my mastery of mental energies which can be used as well."

Alisa stays silent as her eyes widen in shock, before she hesitantly speaks up.

"You… you can heal me?" she asks in a small voice, drawing a surprised look from me.

"Of course. This is _Othrys_. We have the most advanced medical equipment on the planet, and quite a significant part of the Galaxy as well. Surely you were aware of this?"

"I… I just thought, because of what IGH did to my body… to my DNA…" the stricken woman softly says, the implications clearly getting to her.

I could've healed her well over a year ago.

Rising from my couch, I drain the last of my Limoncello, before walking over to the seated woman, laying my large hand on her narrow shoulder, speaking in a reassuring voice as she looks up at me with wide eyes.

"Everything's going to be alright, Alisa. Not immediately, but _eventually_. I promise that you'll be able to be a part of your daughter's life. Of your grandchildren's life." I say with confidence as the vault-like door of my office smoothly swings open (courtesy of Phineas this time, not my TK).

"Now, I suggest you rest up. It's not too late, but you've just gotten a lot dumped in your lap, not to mention some world-shaking revelations as well. Soter will lead you to your room, just follow his lead-"

"Wait!" Alisa shouts as she suddenly jumps up (the sudden movement makes me immediately grasp for my scythe before I manage to slam down on my instincts, making it appear as if I were merely tugging on my cufflinks).

Unaware of just how _close_ she got to being split straight down the middle, Alisa struggles with what she's trying to say, before her shoulders slump and she looks away from me, unease and hope easy to read in her expression and mind.

"Is she… is she here? Can I see her? I won't get close, I swear! I just… If I could just _see_ her…" she tearfully asks and I remain silent for a moment.

"Jessica is… away, for the foreseeable future. I don't know when she's going to come back, but I hope it's soon. I'm keeping an eye on her though. Phineas? Last known location of Jessica and Susan?"

The LED strip running across my ceiling signifying Phineas' physical presence briefly lights up, before his voice comes from various cleverly hidden speakers around my office.

"She was last seen in Eastern Europe. I can't be sure, but I _think_ that she tried to intercepting something from the far East. According to the Masters of the Mystic Arts, _something_ crazy went down there, but Mordo is overseeing the Hong Kong Sanctum for now and is stone-walling us. He keeps telling us to take it up with the Ancient One or the Chase. Anyways, whatever came out of that whole mess, it moved to the West and seems to have slipped past Jessica. She's looped around though and from what I can tell, she's moving towards either the UK or the Netherlands."

Between the impression that I got from Shuri's mind, and the fact that something (or rather, some _one_ ) was clever enough to slip even past her notice, showing great skill in travelling unnoticed, on a heading to the Low Countries and I had a pretty good guess as to who Jessica and the Ghost Rider where hunting down.

"She's going to Belgium. Seems Klaue's trying to go home. Keep an eye out. Got anything else for me?" I ask.

"Not much. I _did_ get some footage of her. It's even as herself, thankfully." He says and a screen pops up in the room, projected from the strip in the ceiling.

It shows a rural area, rolling hills spreading in every direction as far as the eye can see, barely any hints of civilization visible other than some far-off towns. And in one of the closer fields, mid-stride, a T-Rex is tearing across the landscape, a woman wearing a leather trenchcoat perched at the base of her neck.

Both are flesh and blood instead of bones and flame, and without my prompting, Phineas enlarges the image as he zooms in on the two figures, enhancing the image the best he can. Considering that this picture seems to have been taken with a simple mobile phone, the best that Phineas can do is rather impressive, as I'm looking at a poster-worthy HD-quality picture.

Without a word, I place my fingers on the top right edge of the screen, before I send it to one of the glass plates lying on the coffee table. The picture flies into it, filling the screen and extending slightly beyond it and above it. Calling the advanced iPad to my hand, I extend it to a mesmerized looking Alisa.

"Here. Keep it close for now. Soon enough you'll be able to embrace the real deal." I say, trying to project as much warmth in my voice as I can.

Alisa takes the glass plate with trembling fingers, but when I let go, her other hand shoots forwards, grabbing my forearm in a surprisingly strong grip. I can see the roiling cocktail of guilt and self-loathing swirl inside her mind as she tries to speak.

"Listen… The reason I know I'm sick… I've lost control before. I have _killed_ , Michael. I'm… I'm a _murderer_." She painfully admits, and I don't really need my telepathy to know that she fears I'll send her away after her confession, but her guilt making her not want to lie and live under a pretense.

If she's going to be Jessica's mom, she's determined to be _herself_ , not some murdering machine that needs to hide a horrid past from her own daughter.

For a moment, I remain silent, before I slightly squeeze her shoulder, my voice soft and somber.

"As am I, Alisa. Jessica will… understand. It's better if she hears it from you, than if she figures it out on her own. And she _will_ find out. Trust me. Just… just try to be the best you that you can be. That's all she'll ever ask of you." I say with a small smile, before extending my hand to the opened vault door.

"Goodnight, Alisa."

The superwoman gives a small nod, moving away from me and towards the exit, before halting when she's close to the door. She glances back at me over her shoulder, a whole range of complicated and conflicted emotions whirling inside her, before she settles on a weak smile.

"Goodnight, Michael. And thank you."

And with that, Alisa leaves my office with the picture of her daughter clenched close to her chest, following the guiding holographic projections that Phineas helpfully places on the walls for her, my heavy door sliding shut without so much as a whisper of a sound.

For a moment, I stand alone in my silent office, before I look up at the ceiling, appearing to speak into the thin air.

"Phineas. Clear my schedule for tomorrow morning. Make sure that Sterns is free as well. And contact Harper. Tell him I want Karl Malus in my lobby first thing in the morning. I really don't give a shit what for excuses or protests he has: either he's here of his own volition, or I portal over to him and carry his entire house back with me. We're going to fix Jessica's mom."

"Sure thing Michael! But, uhmm…"

Hearing my AI-ghost friend hesitate, I just _know_ that the craziness for today is far from over, and letting out a deep sigh as I pinch the bridge of my nose, I brace myself for the latest outlandish event in the tragic comedy my life has become.

"Just spit it out, Phineas."

"Well… it seems that Alisa isn't the only estranged mom that thought today would be a good day to check in on her daughter."

Before I can question him, a screen pops into existence in front of me, and what I see makes me face-palm, giving a strained 'of course'. Because right there, clearly visible from several angles, are the contained forms of Jiaying and Gordon, encased almost completely in restrictive foam, well over half a dozen varying Soter platforms surrounding them, while four thick pillars create a box of hazy, distorted air of several feet across around the pair of Inhumans.

And Jiaying looks _pissed._

Somehow, she manages to pick out the Soter-platform providing the feed for the main screen, staring straight into its "eyes", thus staring straight at me. Others would've find it creepy. I'm simply annoyed.

Not that I hadn't expected contact with the Inhumans of Afterlife at _some_ point. After all, the moment that I put Skye and Darryl through the Terrigenesis process using my Diviner, the Diviner at Afterlife would be lighting up like an alien Christmas tree in response. Still, I had expected the fact that it took place inside Othrys, _the_ most secure fortress on Earth, would throw the Inhumans of my trail.

Of course, since there was plenty of footage of Skye (or Bia, as she was regularly called on the news and the internet, in keeping with the whole Greek mythology theme I had going on) reducing demons to giblets, it made sense that Jiaying would link her glowing Diviner to her daughter suddenly showing up with superpowers.

Right, no sense putting this off then.

"Phineas, where are they?"

"Sublevel One. I detected a teleporting signature that didn't correspond to the magical portals wizards used and I checked it out. I found these two trying to make their way deeper into Othrys' sublevels."

"How did you notice them? For that matter, how are you keeping them from teleporting out right now?"

"I worked on it with Dr. Selvig and Dr. Foster!" my AI friend says happily, and briefly the screen expands to show several videos and dissertations detailing the two scientist's theories and experiments considering the very fabric of the space-time continuum. I quickly see that it's based off their research on the Tesseract.

"Taking into account how The Ancient One just pops over whenever she wants and the implications for stealth and infiltration that Pym Particles have, I have been brainstorming with Harper on how to boost Othrys' security, especially against non-conventional methods of entry. We went over the work of the Think Tank and tried to find ways to apply it to defense and capture, like this here! I call it… The Pillars of Hercules! They project a Non Plus Ultra field, _literally_ stopping people from moving any further! Cool, right!?"

For a moment, I just silently stare at the screen, before shooting the LED strip running across the ceiling a _very_ dry look.

"Dude. You've _gotta_ get over your Xenaverse obsession man. It's bad enough you stole Hercules' body for your avatar, you gotta claim his pillars too?" I ask with amusement lacing my voice.

Phineas sputters for a moment (an… odd thing to do, for an AI), before he just gives a slightly irritated sigh.

"Just use your bullshit-magic to come over here, okay? This lady is staring hard enough I think one of her powers might actually be heat-vision or something."

If only it _were_ something as simple as heat-vision. That'd be easy to deal with. But no, Jiaying happens to have powers similar to Rogue from the X-Men, and a rather justified dislike of humanity, considering a Nazi _literally vivisected her while she was still alive_. Having your husband having to find your corpse in the trash and stitch your body back together, only to figure out someone stole your baby?

Yeah, people have done far worse over far less. Honestly, it's rather amazing that in the intervening twenty years, there _hasn't_ been an Inhuman War. Either running the Afterlife is a _very_ time-consuming job, or some of the world's shadow-organizations were actually rather damn good at keeping any such conflict out of the public eye.

With a sigh, a wave of my hand and a single step, I go from standing in my office on the highest level of Othrys to standing before the two trapped Inhumans down on Sublevel One (like Phineas said, magic is bullshit). Jiaying's eyes smoothly slide away from the Soter platform she's been glaring at to look at me instead. Other than a slight widening of her eyes at the fading magical portal, she remains remarkably composed. Gordon on the other hand… his expression is somewhat difficult to read at first, considering the lack of eyes.

Not that I haven't seen (and then killed) plenty of creatures without eyes before, but this is the first time I've seen it on a humanoid.

Still, judging from his clenched teeth and the way he periodically blurs (each time he does, the hazy confines of Non Plus Ultra field flicker in accordance, the exotic spatial effects created by SCIENCE! counteracting his own powers), he seems to be somewhat panicked at having been caught.

Must be a novel experience for a teleporter, I guess.

Focusing back on the leader of Afterlife, I give a deep sigh as I step closer to NPU-field.

"Right. I've had a _very_ long day, I'm tired and I honestly just wanna try to get some sleep today. I know who you are. I know that _you_ know who _I_ am. I can guess as to what, or rather _who_ prompted you to seek me out. So how about this: let's skip all the stuff where we're being all coy and mysterious and evasive and shit like that. You just tell me what the hell you want, and I'll let you visit your daughter. 'Cause I'm guessing that she's one, if not _the_ reason you're here in the first place, instead of ambushing me somewhere outside of Othrys." I say, raising an eyebrow as I challenge Jiaying to refute what I just said.

The Inhuman's eyes widen slightly at my knowledge, before they narrow in thought, her features still composed and neutral. She briefly mulls over my words, before she gives a small nod.

"Very well. Gordon. It's okay. I do not believe that we will be harmed here. If he wanted us dead, we would be already."

At his leader's voice, the eyeless man stops struggling, bowing his head in deference to her orders.

"So, no running then?" I ask, just to be sure, touching Jiaying's mind with my own as I test her trustworthiness.

Interestingly enough, her mind reminds me of Carter's. A veritable labyrinth of strategies, hidden thoughts and countermeasures. But unlike the superspy, there's something dark and _wrong_ deep within Jiaying's mind. Underneath it all there's a… fire, almost, except it's freezing cold to my touch. When Whitehall cut apart her body, he scarred her mind as well. There's an icy and near universal _disgust_ of humans, hidden away deep in her mind. Controlled enough that she doesn't turn into a homicidal maniac, but prevalent enough that, if she were given the chance, the _excuse_ to, she would happily wage war on humanity.

It would seem that mental health issues amongst the mothers of my people is rather more prevalent than I'd like.

"No running." Jiaying affirms in her smooth voice and while I can tell that's she's looking for ways to turn her situation to her advantage, I also see that she's currently willing to play ball with me. After all, she wanted to get into Othrys in the first place. Not much use in running away when you have an invitation of the owner of the place you were trying to infiltrate after all.

I glance at the nearest Soter platform from the corner of my eye, giving him a nod.

"Alright Phineas, shut it down."

Almost immediately following my words, the Pillars of Hercules shut down, the various lights quickly shutting off as they go dormant. The Non Plus Ultra field dissipates with a snap of cracked air, almost like the sound of a whip. As the Pillars shrink in on themselves, panels shifting and moving while they retreat into recesses in the walls, several Soter platforms step up, a thick nozzle extending from their right forearm.

A thick spray comes out. It looks like water, but the chemical smell is rather strong (though thankfully not disgusting. If anything, it just reminds me of some _very_ potent cleaning products). Wherever the spray lands, the thick foam just melts away, like cotton candy being put into water.

In less than a minute, the two Inhumans are freed, and despite the fact that I can literally look in on their thoughts (though Gordon's mind is… _weird_. He doesn't seem to think in the same 3D-patterns that humans do), I still tense, looking out for any hidden tricks that I might have missed.

Centuries in a warzone make you paranoid, who would've thought?

Still, after a few tense moments of silence, I relax somewhat as both Inhuman remain simply standing there, Gordon not quite being able to hide his nervousness, whereas Jiaying is expertly manipulating her body language to come across as non-threatening as possible.

Not that she fools me but it's the thought that counts, I suppose.

"Right. Phineas, where's Skye right now?"

Jiaying raises an eyebrow at the name, but otherwise remains silent as one of the Soter-platforms steps closer, a hologram springing to life above his upturned palm.

"She's in the Courtyard, with several others. With most of Othrys' people inside while our lawn was being filled with Michaelites, there was an impromptu barbecue and several of them are sharing a couple of drinks and swapping stories. The Racoon especially has some… unique ones."

Ignoring the ridiculous name Phineas gave to the people who thought I was a God, I instead focus on the scene visible on the screen. A long, low wooden table (extremely durable, of course) is covered in empty plates and beer bottles, despite the fact that the majority of my people can't get drunk of anything less than a case of lagers.

Skye and Darcy are sitting opposite Beta Ray Bill, Darcy giving the cyborg looks that are straining the definition of 'flirting' and are just shy of 'utterly outrageous'. Good for Bill, though Quill, who's sitting next to him, seems rather disappointed that _he_ isn't receiving such looks. The cyborg in question seems more relaxed than I've seen him so far, leaning one the table and apparently with a pleasant expression on his face, though considering it is rather… horse-like, it's difficult to tell. _On_ the tabletop in between the four of them, stands Rocket, who appears to be… completely drunk off his ass and telling a raunchy story that involves _way_ too many hip-thrusting to be told in a public setting like that.

Jiaying's eyes widen in shock at the colorful group (Gordon's would've as well if… you know… if he actually had any) and I waste no time in snapping a portal to the Courtyard, stepping through with Jiaying and Gordon hot on my heels.

"-and that's when I realized: the third one was missing their shoe! AHAHAHAAH!" Bradley Cooper's voice rings out across the courtyard, muffling the sound of my entrance.

Bill immediately spots me, and is quick to stand up, which catches Quill's attention. When his eyes land on me, he also tries to stand up, only to almost topple over backwards over his bench. Rocket Racoon… simply topples over, snoring away softly, completely dead to the world.

How much have they been drinking? If they've tried to keep up with Bill… I pity their heads tomorrow morning.

Seeing the men rise so suddenly makes Darcy and Skye turn around in their seats. They appear somewhat confused and interested at the two people standing next to me (especially Gordon's face causes some raised eyebrows), but other than that, they simply respond with a wave.

Right, Skye of course wouldn't know what her mother looked like.

Glancing to my left, I can see the same realization hammer home with Jiaying, genuine sorrow filling her mind as she gives a weak, brittle smile.

Somewhat weirded out by the looks the unfamiliar woman is giving her, Skye rises to her feet as well (thankfully she at least seems… _somewhat_ sober) addressing me as she crosses her arm in front of her chest.

"Hey Michael, what's up? Did you need anything?"

Shooting another glance at the Inhuman leader, I take a step to the side, extending my hand at the Chinese woman.

"Skye? There's someone that I'd like you to meet."

At my words, Jiaying steps forwards and I can see/feel her struggling with what she's going to say. Eventually, she simply settles on straightforward.

"Hello, Skye. I am Jiaying. I am your mother."

Right. Make that blunt, instead of straightforward.

The general clutter of background noise completely dies down at the Inhuman's words and I can see both Darcy and Peter's mouth fall open simultaneously. Bill gives off a sense of shock, but hides it well (when your muscles are artificial, you become a master at keeping a poker face). Skye…

Skye is simply floored. The simply statement causes a whirlwind of thought to explode in her mind, each question screaming for attention so much that they start drowning each other out, eventually leading to a chaotic silence as Skye literally doesn't know what to make of the woman in front of her.

She hesitantly opens her mouth, ready to start the complex progress of reconnecting with her mother, when an unfamiliar middle-aged man walks back into the Courtyard, letting the door to the men's room fall shut behind him as he speaks and finishes up zipping up his pants, a large smile visible on his face.

"Right, where were we!? I think the Raccoon was telling this marvelous story about that time he caused three dynastic successions with a single scandal-"

As he looks up and is greeted with a wall of silence, I see his face for the first time and let out a frustrated groan.

' _Of course!'_

Jiaying, who couldn't see the man at first, steps around me, ready to lay into the boorish oaf that _dared_ interrupt her emotional reconciliation moment with her daughter. Both lock eyes, which widen in shock.

"You!"

"You!"

"Who?" Skye weakly asks as she looks between the two people.

Looking from Jiaying to Skye, the man draws himself up to his full length, a mix of hesitation, anticipation and hope swirling inside of his mind.

"Very well. If your mother has approached you so brazen as this, then it seems that the need for subtlety has gone. Skye. It's time you know the truth: I'm _not_ David Johnson like I said I was. When I approached you during Hell Week, it wasn't because I wanted to fight demons on the front lines. I approached you, because I wanted to fight demons _alongside you_. Skye… I am your father." Calvin Zabo says with pride.

The silence from before returns even more pressing than before, as Skye keeps looking desperately between her suddenly-revealed parents, Jiaying keeps staring at Calvin, Calvin keeps staring at Skye and Peter keeps staring at Calvin with a wide-eyed look and a gleeful expression on his face as he almost inaudibly whispers 'Darth Vader!' under his breath.

Finally, the tense silence is broken by Skye herself.

"What. The. SHIT!"

Seems appropriate.

* * *

I sent all three of them to a large common room in one of Othrys' residential wings, allowing them to work through their history together with some privacy. Gordon had declined my offer of giving him a room for the night, merely teleporting back to Afterlife, citing that he would know when Jiaying required his services again.

Of course, while the estranged parents and lost daughter were reconnecting, I ordered Phineas to keep listening in on them. I didn't want Jiaying putting any anti-human sentiments in Skye's head after all, and while Calvin wouldn't wage war against the humans (unless they upset his daughter) he still wasn't exactly an ideal model for fatherhood.

As it turned out, Calvin had apparently approached my forces on the third day of Hell Week under a pseudonym, showcasing his own hack-job version of the supersoldier serum and claiming it as a genetic anomaly, pretending to be an Inhuman himself, completely ignorant about the source of his powers and Inhumans in general.

Considering the way the demonic invasion had been going, Harper hadn't exactly minded the extra manpower (especially of the superpowered kind) and Skye was just happy to meet another Inhuman. While Harper had been suspicious of the man, he had proven his worth during Hell Week and had gotten close to Skye, striking up a friendship. When Hell Week ended, he had petitioned Harper to come back to Othrys with the rest of the team and Harper (apparently under the idea of 'I'd like to keep him where I can see him') had let him. Of course he had also given Phineas the order to keep an eye on the man and perform a background check, but Calving had covered his tracks well and was a model citizen within the walls of Othrys, so Phineas hadn't really bothered all that much with the man.

I was going to have _words_ with my electronic ghost friend.

Apparently, Calvin's plan had been to settle in at Othrys, and then once he and Sky had gotten close, do a dramatic reveal of his identity, hoping that his earlier friendship with Skye would keep her from sending him away from Othrys.

Of course, when Skye asked him why he didn't approach her as her father in the first place, the man was at a complete loss for words, eventually only being able to offer a weak 'well, it seemed like a good idea at the time?'.

Like I said, not the ideal dad.

Not that Jiaying wasn't much better. It wasn't like she was telling Skye to hate all humans, but she was campaigning pretty hard for her daughter to leave Othrys behind and come with her to Afterlife. The way she was telling it, Jiaying had set the place up specifically so that it could be a safe haven for her daughter.

Who knows? She just might have.

Thankfully, Skye had been _very_ firm in shutting that down, citing that all of this was too new, too _sudden_ to commit to that. She wouldn't say no to visiting Afterlife in the near future, but it would be a _visit_ and nothing more. She had made too many connections to the people within Othrys to just up and leave like her mother wanted her to.

As she said that, I thought of Radcliffe and Agnes. Ever since Radcliffe had contacted Skye through a digital cat-and-mouse game, leading her along a trail of breadcrumbs towards Othrys, the two had grown closer. At first, Radcliffe was merely an Uncle of sorts, but as he reconnected with Agnes and the three of them spent months together on the outskirts of the Kree City, they had grown closer still.

While I don't think that Skye would ever call Radcliffe 'dad' (at least out loud), there was no denying that the two had built a father-daughter bond over the years.

Breaking the news to him and Agnes about Skye's biological parents resurfacing would be… interesting. Especially considering neither parent had an exactly clean ledger (though again, in terms of MCU trauma cases, they were certainly in the Top 10).

But even _more_ interesting was what I was going to do with the _source_ of all that trauma: Werner Reinhardt, nowadays known as Daniel Whitehall. When I fucked up with the Mind Stone and briefly shut down Phineas (and through him, most of Othrys), Harper had been right on Whitehall's tail, scoping out the old Nazi's fortress. When he suddenly lost all contact with the base, a worried Harper decided to return as quickly as possible, but not empty-handed.

Breaching Whitehall's castle had been a bloody affair, but nothing that my Hysminai couldn't handle with ease. Taking Whitehall back with them to New York was another hassle entirely, especially because the wily Nazi was trying to make the trip as aggravating as possible.

He had tried to bite off his own tongue no less than four times and Jim had been forced to prevent close to a dozen suicide attempts. He couldn't exactly rely on the lobotomized Winter Soldiers either: give them an order to kill someone or destroy something and nothing short of Thor or the Hulk (or me) would stop them in carrying out their order with the utmost silent precision.

When Harper told one to make sure Whitehall didn't hurt himself, the soldier had intended to rip the man's arms off.

So, when it came to keeping someone healthy and _alive_ , the Winter Soldiers weren't the greatest option. Of course, I or Pangborn could've just popped over with a portal, but Harper declined. He was using the trip back as a way to throw various organizations of his trail and cement the Hysminai as a unit that was wholly independent and that had no relation to Othrys whatsoever. He argued that this would increase the Hysminai's effectiveness in future missions.

Seeing a giant man in golden armor step through a portal would kind of defeat that purpose. So I let Harper to his self-imposed challenge in wrangling the Nazi back to the States, Whitehall kicking and screaming all the way. Which would be fine if the man didn't have a knack for doing it at the most inopportune moments, for instance right when my Hysminai had to dodge the special forces of a dozen European countries or the smattering of Hydra remnants that were trying to retrieve their prized scientist.

All in all, they arrived a mere two days after I left with Sam for Sakaar, and without a way of contacting me, Harper had simply decided on throwing Whitehall in my dungeons and wiping his hands off the man. A few subroutines from Phineas made sure that Whitehall remained in a healthy condition, but otherwise, people didn't really want to bother with him.

Radcliffe had tried interrogating the man, trying to get the Nazi to reveal his knowledge about Inhumans, but after a few days had stopped in disgust of the man's (effective) attempts at riling him up. Considering that he had all but adopted an Inhuman, that wasn't entirely surprising.

Of course, then Hell Week happened, and everybody just straight up forgot about him.

I hadn't had a chance to properly deal with him yet, other than a quick visit where I bruteforced my way into his mind in order to extract his vile Nazi secrets, but I didn't stay for too long. I may have become desensitized to a _lot_ of fucked up shit, so I wasn't truly bothered by his disgusting memories and thoughts, but still.

A Nazi mind is not a nice play to be for any length of time.

I had merely dumped all of Whitehall's Inhuman knowledge in Radcliffe's lap, had given some Hydra black-sites to Harper and Carter to raid (depending on if the base had anything that I wanted retrieved for myself or not), while also giving Carter the names of several Agents that Whitehall had turned and then told the Thompsons to start incorporating his mind-control technology into their own research, using Whitehall himself as their Guinea pig.

By now, Kilgrave's parents had long realized that I had killed their son (or rather Jessica did, but that's semantics), and without any projects to work on and basically trapped inside Othrys, the two had fallen into depression, not helped by the fact that everyone else in Othrys knew exactly what they had put their son through and what he had subsequently done with his terrifying powers.

To say they were the most disliked people in Othrys was an understatement.

Eager to escape their guilt by throwing themselves into their work, they had accepted my order (not that they really had a choice in the matter) and had been working over Whitehall these past few days with a twisted (yet effective) combination of their own and his torture devices.

Couldn't have happened to a nicer person.

Still, I think it could help Skye and her parents (Jiaying especially) if they got some… cathartic alone time with the Nazi at some point. Work through their issues, before they worsened and became humanity's (and thus, _my_ ) issues. Not now of course, but after things have had a chance to settle down a bit.

 _Finally_ reaching my bedroom, I push all thoughts of resurrected moms and vile Nazi's out of my mind as I shrug on my pajama's. It had been a _long_ day. Things were already moving along at breakneck speed and I'd rather tackle them tomorrow, after some good rest.

Of course, I still can't fall asleep as my eyes keep shooting towards the shadows that I swear are getting longer and growing teeth whenever I look away and in desperation I use my psychokinetic powers to put myself to sleep again.

I haven't properly slept a single day since Hell Week ended.

* * *

 **May 9** **th** **, 11:30**

The church is the same as the one where Peggy's funeral is held. The service is of course impeccable, but still somewhat stale. Or impersonal, rather. That tends to happen when the vast majority of the deceased's life is classified information.

Still, the church is packed to the brim and even out on the streets people are paying their respects. Some of the highest politicians of the US are here and even some foreign dignitaries (Russia is of course absent). The Avengers and their respective families fill the first row and surprisingly, a select few from Othrys and myself are on the second row (which must be frustrating for the people sitting behind me).

The usual songs are sang, and several people come up to say a few words. In some cases literally only a few words. The Avengers of course elaborate more on the life of their comrade, but most of them knew her only for a year of that life. Steve is surprisingly heartfelt and elaborative, having apparently stricken up a similar friendship with Natasha as was shown in the Winter Soldier movie.

Good for them.

It's only when Barton comes up that the tone of the funeral changes. Becomes _deeper_ , somehow, more genuine. Like we're talking about the actual woman behind the title of the Black Widow, Agent of SHIELD and one of the Avengers.

Other than going a little misty-eyed, Barton remains remarkably composed, talking about Natasha in a fond tone with barely a waver in his voice. Interestingly enough, his family isn't here. I suppose with that many shakers and movers in a single room, he'd be more than happy keeping his family away and hidden, even if it means they have to miss Auntie Nat's funeral.

"I'll always remember when I first met Nat. Of course, a lot of our first meeting is classified, but I think most of you know the gist of it anyways. We weren't on the same side. Not yet, anyways. We were on opposite sides, our missions were to ki-… well, our missions were conflicting. I was looking for her, she was looking for me. But when I saw her, I realized something. She wasn't on the mission. Wasn't looking for me. I mean, she _was_ , she was right there after all, gun on her hip and stiletto in her shoe. But _mentally_ … she was _very_ far away. And I realized… she was looking for something else. Something that I think, we're all looking for. At least in some point in our life. A place to belong. A side that you want to be on. A family. I had only a single moment, while I had that realization. A single moment to make the most important choice in my life. And, looking back on the years I've had with the greatest partner in the world at my side… I can definitely say that I made the right one. And I know, or at least I _hope_ , that in doing so… I managed to give Nat what she had always been looking for." The archer finishes, a single tear rolling over his check, before he turns to the empty coffin at his side and places a calloused hand on its gleaming mahogany surface.

"I'm going to miss you Nat." he softly finishes, before he moves back to take his seat.

For a moment, the church is silent and I'm nearly buried in the emotions that flood the vaulted hall as Clint's words move well over a hundred people.

The aged priest walks up to his pulpit, indicating that we'll sing the final song and then the coffin will be buried in an idyllic part of the Green-wood Cemetery in Brooklyn. Since I doubt that the Black Widow made any provisions regarding her death other than perhaps 'delete my hard drives and give all my stuff to the Bartons', I'm fairly sure Steve Rogers is the one who arranged for that.

As far as cemeteries go, Green-wood is pretty nice. Idyllic even, some would say.

Somewhat less so with the sheer multitude of people that are now in said cemetery, flowers in hand, all of them wanting to pay their respects to the Avenger who died in defense of all of humanity. Once of the results of Hell Week is that people have begun taking 'holy' things a lot more seriously, so thankfully everybody is as respectful as they can be in order to not disturb the graveyard and the people laid at rest there. Once the coffin is lowered and dirt been thrown on top, the people who were inside the church for the funeral move back towards the cars, allowing the massive crowd to lay their flowers and pictures at Romanov's grave, turning it into a shrine.

As the crowd sticks around Green-Wood, our column of cars moves towards Avengers Tower. I didn't feel much like going there, but Foster had convinced me and after Barton's heartfelt speech I would've felt like a dick if I ghosted them now.

Besides, Othrys was far too busy anyways. While I had cured much of Alisa's mental instability yesterday, it was still a rather rough job (I'm good at ripping minds apart, not gently nursing them back to health) and I ordered Alisa to see a therapist and allow Sterns and Malus (who had immediately acquiesced when Harper had shown up telling him to get his butt over to Othrys pronto) to continue on healing any physical damage to her brain.

Still, at least now she was less likely to fly off the handle and had a better grip on her sudden rage, though the underlying issues that _caused_ that rage still needed to be dealt with (she hadn't let go of Jessica's picture for the entire day).

Jiaying had left yesterday after a long talk and hug with Skye, promising to be back as soon as possible, but first she had to make sure that her people could deal with her absence for a few days. She had teleported out with Gordon, but didn't take Calvin with her. The two were as estranged from each other as they were from Skye, and while there was still love there, too much had happened in their life to simply pick things up as they were before a certain Nazi scientist removed most of her organs.

Skye had seemed somewhat grateful for the breather though, wanting to process the massive bombshells that had been thrown her way, one after the other. Interestingly enough, she had went to decompress with Radcliffe and Agnes, who were immensely supportive of the troubled young woman.

Which caused its own share of problems, because Calvin then became jealous, butting heads with Radcliffe as he felt that the man was stealing his position and Radcliffe didn't appreciate that Calvin had left a trail of corpses in his pursuit of Skye. Thankfully the headbutting remained metaphorical and not literal, because I really didn't want to deal with that mess.

Instead, I had Harper deal with that mess.

His (and Phineas') inattention was the cause of a large part of this mess even existing in the first place, so they could deal with it.

Harper, being a man who dislikes being fooled, had offered Calvin some one-on-one training sessions (he had given Trish a day off to recover from seeing her mom suddenly show up like that), citing that only by facing another superhuman could Calving hope to significantly improve his skills and raise his combat level.

Translation: Harper beat the ever-loving shit out of Zabo for several hours on end.

Calvin didn't complain for two reasons. Or rather three, the primary being that Harper didn't tolerate complaining and Calving was hurting enough as it was, thankyouverymuch.

The second reason was the fact that I promised him a perfected version of his supersoldier formula, making it more effective and less painful to use, once I knew I could actually trust him with such power. The third reason was simply that if he _didn't_ obey Harper's every order, I'd boot him of Othrys, meaning that he'd be unlikely to see Skye ever again unless she went out and approached him first.

I had Burstein quickly look over Zabo's bloodwork, examining the serum the man had used, but it didn't seem to possess anything that I didn't already have. In the end, it was simply a subpar version of Erskine's formula, which was in itself a subpar version of the serum that I had enhanced myself with.

My very first enhancement, actually.

So I told Burstein to figure out how to perfect the serum for Zabo and then put it out of my mind. There was plenty that required my attention as well, after all. Hall and Cho had both said that they would be more than happy to work at Othrys, and would be here within the month. They had to take care of personal and professional business first before they could make the move, but since the Convergence was still half a year off, I didn't really mind.

I also received an email from Dormer and Gill, as well as FitzSimmons. The mail from the pair of now SHIELD Agents was very brief and polite, but declined my offer as they were "otherwise engaged in central operations of SHIELD that we believe vital to the safety of civilians on a global scale". The tone was obviously Jemma Simmons, but there was no way I was going to get Leo Fitz without her (a shame, since he actually seemed to be the more clever/useful one to me). Still, I wasn't too bummed out, because I had the next best thing: an email from one Donnie Gill which only read "we accept" and a videofile of a working Atmospheric Moisture Freezing Device.

I had only briefly met them personally before handing them off to Maya Hanssen, but considering the… edgy energy the two of them had, I was rather thankful of that. Gill of course had been pissed that I seemingly pawed him off to work for one of my scientists instead of immediately giving him his own lab and ordering him to make a Death Ray or something (kids, honestly).

Still, once I explained to him that I wanted him to become a genuine terraformer instead of merely fixing up Fitz' old junk, making the two of them the pioneers of human extra-planetary expansion, they agreed to simmer down and listen up. They would work under Hansen in order to learn how to fix up _this_ planet first, drawing from the various papers on alien technology that Sterns had published (alongside a whole slew of scientific discoveries and alien cultures and… well, basically _everything_ that could be found outside our own solar system) and of course Hansen's own forays into tampering with food production and sustainable agriculture (preferably the kind that was on fire all the time). They still didn't like the perceived limit on their independence, but Hansen would set them straight.

That, or feed them to a plant or something.

I'm shaken from my musings as I'm staring out of the long windows on the top floor of Avengers Tower (where only a year before, Loki threw Stark through one of said windows) by a softly cleared throat.

Glancing to my left (and then a bit down as well), I look at Clint Barton as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, staring out through the windows as well with a stubborn set to his jaw. I can see his eyes flit down towards the streets far below, which are still packed with people paying their respects to Natasha Romanov, even if they didn't even know of her existence a year ago.

"Good speech." I offer, but Barton only grunts in response.

Since he clearly approached me for a reason (and because I'm in no particular hurry to get back to Othrys only to hear Dormer and Gill whine on and on _again_ ) I'm content to merely stand next to the archer and wait.

It only takes a few moments before he speaks up, but pitching his voice low, his back firmly turned on the packed rooms behind us.

"What you said… couple of days ago. Souls and stuff. That true?"

I can already tell where he's trying to go with this (telepathy for the win, no wonder so many Jedi fell to the Dark Side if listening in on someone's secrets is _this_ easy), but I don't interrupt him, merely giving him a subtle nod.

It's clear he doesn't really want the other Avengers to know about what he's going to ask me to do, so I'll meet him halfway and not try to draw any attention either. I may be a giant of a man with a body temperature more often found in volcanoes, but I _can_ do subtle.

Sometimes.

My nod makes his shoulders tense up, his expression souring.

"Fuck. Alright. Right. So, what do I need to do?"

Seeing my raised eyebrow, he elaborates, some heat slipping into his voice even as he keeps it soft and low pitched.

"I _know_ that people can be brought back from the dead. I've done my research. I've read through the transcripts of all your interviews, those of the others at Othrys and those of the Ancient One as well. I've read through _every_ article Dr. Sterns has released concerning alien histories and civilization. People _can_ be brought back. And I know, I just _know_ , that you know how to do it too. I'd bet my life on it. So, tell me. Tell me what you want from me? What do I need to do to bring Nat back?"

I give him a slow blink as I consider that Barton is definitely a superspy instead of merely guy with just an arrow gimmick if he's been able to get that just from data-gathering and reading between the lines. As he was talking I followed his thought process and I can even see how he came to that conclusion, fueled by desperate hope as it was.

It mainly began with several statements made regarding the Hand, either from SHIELD dossiers or stuff the Ancient One and I have let slip over the past year. Working from there, he has tracked down corresponding mentions of similar legends and cases, building it up to the correct conclusion: resurrection in the MCU is entirely possible.

You don't even need to throw your loved one or closest friend off a cliff to do it either.

Briefly I consider what I should do, before I settle on something rather unusual for me: telling the truth.

"Yes, people can be resurrected. No, I don't want anything from you and no, I don't need you to do anything for me. Things are already in motion to bring Natasha back, though the means are… not entirely perfect. Given we're talking literal _resurrection from the dead_ here, I think that's understandable. Still, this means that once she's resurrected, you should contact me. I have the means to heal the damage she'll bear from this ordeal. If left alone it'll… fester. Grow worse over time until the Natasha that you knew is truly gone and even raising her from the dead will not bring her back."

At my response, Barton's eyes widen in shock, and I can _feel_ the truly massive amounts of willpower and self-control that he uses to keep himself from freaking out, cheering or collapsing on the spot. Maybe even all three at once. Still, he can't keep himself from letting out a shuddering breath as he briefly closes his eyes, while I can see his hands balling themselves into fists inside his pockets.

When he opens his eyes again, they're watery, but his gaze is filled with determination and hope.

"What's going on then? Who's bringing her back? You? God?"

"Nick Fury."

 _This_ time, the shock is much harder to hide and he can't quite help himself from turning to face me fully, his expression wide-eyed and disbelieving.

"Fury? Wha-… _how_?"

"A hidden program, specifically set up in case an Avenger falls in battle, using the blood of a species with an… interesting connection to human history and biology. It grants humans regenerative properties, powerful enough even to return from the dead, though as I said, there are drawbacks involved. If you don't believe me, just walk up to him and ask for a vacation to Tahiti. Make sure to mention that you've heard it's a rather wonderful place."

Barton's disbelieving look persists for a few moments, before it's replaced by an angry scowl as he realizes that Fury wanted to keep Natasha's resurrection from him. He turns on his heel and is about to stalk off into the room, in search of his director, but almost walks into a slim blond woman.

I had noticed her approaching, and while I could sense a surprisingly high level of energy hidden underneath her skin, I hadn't recognized her and hadn't really bothered with her. I was surrounded by immense energies all day long after all. She was probably just a SHIELD Agent that had been enhanced during Hell Week, as so many others in a desperate bid to counter Hell's and Dormammu's forces.

It hadn't always worked out so well for others as it had apparently for her.

Barton mutters a quick apology and makes to step around her, only to realize that the man he's looking for is standing right behind her, with Carter at his side. There's a lull in the buzz as a silence falls across the room. I notice that Steve looks somewhat pained, while the other Avengers merely look confused.

Fury and Carter are both scowling, but their frustration is more aimed at the woman and the world in general than at me (though a fair bit of it is firmly pointed towards me as well. They just seem to be two generally very frustrated people).

The woman is… interesting.

It's not often that I meet someone who is so utterly confident, so completely unafraid. Especially when it comes to the idea of facing me. This woman is either incredibly delusional… or incredibly powerful.

The biggest problem would be if it turned out she was both.

"Mister McCole?" she asks with a small smirk, her tone still within the realms of politeness.

Not that the question is necessary: I have a rather… unique appearance after all. Still, I play along for now, inclining my head at her, though her self-assured posture is already beginning to rub me the wrong way. If you plan on facing me, at least have the common decency (and sense) to be terrified out of your mind, for crying out loud!

"I'm going to have to ask you to come with us." The woman says, her smirk not wavering an inch.

Drawing myself up a little higher, I raise a questioning eyebrow at her, my own posture relaxed, matching her confident one.

"Oh? Whatever for."

"You're under arrest on the grounds of stealing SHIELD property and the suspected murder of US Military personnel. Alongside probably breaking every single law in the Geneva Convention, but we'll get to that eventually, of course." The woman says with a slight grin as she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

Looking down at the woman, I can't help but let out a slight chuckle at the absurd picture the two of us are making as she states her intentions.

"Right. Disregarding that you don't even have proof of the things that you're accusing me of allegedly having done, you want to arrest me? … _how_ , exactly? I'm actually _genuinely_ curious. You _are_ aware of the fact that I've fought off entire _armies_ before, right?" I say, my smirk mirroring her own.

I'm surprised when she merely lifts her chin in challenge.

"So have I."

…

' _Come again now?'_

"Phineas." I subvocalize, allowing my ghost friend to pick up my speech without the people in front of me noticing.

In response, the highly advanced lens I'm wearing in my right eye comes to life as Phineas runs the woman's face through his facial recognition software, pulling from a truly massive amount of databanks, even those that technically don't (or _shouldn't_ ) exist. Surprisingly enough for someone apparently very high up in the SHIELD food chain, it takes him less than a second to find a match, quickly overlaying the information he's found over the woman in front of me in my minuscule HUD.

It's a Military ID. US Air Force, fighter pilot with the rank of Captain, issued 1989, Carol Danvers-…

Ah, _fuck_.

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** When counting up the different character's screen time in the MCU (only the movies), then Robert Downey Jr. has the most screen time. Not surprising, since he appears in 10 movies. The runner-up is Samuel L. Jackson with 'merely' 6. In total, Iron Man appears on screen for roughly 3000 minutes. Make of that what you will

 _As always, a huge thanks to my Patrons, I truly do appreciate and love you all! IronmanMarkIV, Shaman95, justlovereadin, Daniel Dorfman, DoctorTortoise, DavidJP, CJ Elsen, Sam, Carn Krauss, ReaperScythe, Thordur hrafn, CrankyD, Kamalpreet Singh, Devon, Kyle Reese, Kahn, RLStrained, Vu, Roman Krupkin! Thanks again for your support!_


	52. I don't like what you're Saiyan

_**I don't like what you're Saiyan**_

* * *

I felt annoyance flood me even as I read the short read-out that Phineas was projecting on my tiny HUD. Of course I can't just have a quiet outing, _no_ , that's just too much to ask in a world of gods and monsters, heroes and villains. Just my luck that I'm facing Carol Danvers, aka Ms. Marvel, Binary or Captain Marvel (depending on who and when you asked). I knew that she would get a movie in-between Infinity War Part I and II, but sadly that was the extent of my knowledge.

That did explain why the woman in front of me seemed vaguely familiar though: she was definitely an actress that I had seen in my previous life. I couldn't remember her name or what movie I saw her in (it has been close to _thirty_ years since I switched universes after all) and of course I had never been able to see her version of Captain Marvel, so my meta-knowledge would be pretty much useless here, almost non-existent as it was.

I _do_ know that there had been fears (from myself included) that she would end up being a Mary Sue, appearing at the last second just to save the Avengers and kick Thanos' ass, which would invalidate the struggles and sacrifices of Infinity War, but since I had never seen Infinity War Part II, I had no idea how truthful that prediction would had turned out to have been become eventually…

Man, proper grammar when dealing with alternate dimensions is a bitch and a half.

Sadly, my in-universe knowledge of her wasn't much more expansive. Phineas quickly had access to her service record, showing the time she was enlisted with the Air Force, her designation as MIA (presumed dead, but without any sign of a body her death was never officially confirmed) and he even found her obituary in the local newspaper of her hometown. It was written by one Monica Rambeau, a fellow Air Force officer serving alongside Danvers'.

' _Her call-sign was Avenger? Huh, what a coincidence_.'

"Phineas. Keep looking. Also go through our own databases, specifically Sterns' alien files. If I'm correct, then Danvers should have some connection to the Kree. Start there." I subvocalized again, already trying to find ways to defuse the situation before I would need to resort to violence.

As it was, I could easily use this situation to sway public perception in my favor (even more so than it already was, that is). The hero of humanity, arrested by some lady showing up out of nowhere who hadn't been there for the horrors of the One Day War and Hell Week, leaving them to fight for themselves? Yeah, that wouldn't go over very well to say the least.

However, if things did get violent (as they had a tendency to do in my new life) then there could be… complications. I knew that I hadn't fully recovered from my stint in the Dark Dimension, I probably wouldn't for a while. The insomnia and the jumping at shadows, jittering insects and sudden movements were signs enough of that. If I were to be attacked in my current mental state… I don't think "holding back" is in my dictionary at this point.

But someone like me, going all-out on one of the top-floors of Avengers Tower, surrounded by squishy humans and slightly less squishy Avengers, while the streets below were filled with mourners for Natasha? The damage I would do, the deaths I would cause, even just as an unintended consequence of my destructive potential would be enough to evaporate a large part of my public support and confirm the fears many in the Government have regarding me.

Leveling this tower and crushing the people below in rubble and human-bits was only going to prove them right which would end up… problematic for me and my people.

It took only a few seconds for me to go through this scenario, hardening my resolve to _not_ punch my way out of this situation, but until Phineas could find more info on this MCU-version of one of the most powerful humans in the Marvel setting, my options were limited. I needed more time to think things through, stall somehow.

Thankfully, someone else volunteered to buy me that time.

Without a hint of fear at the woman who was apparently powerful (and/or foolish enough) to stare _me_ down, Barton stepped up until they were only inches apart, his hands clenched into fists at his side and his teeth bared in a snarl.

"What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!" he asked in a furious hiss.

Danvers leaned slightly back from him, one eyebrow raised unimpressively. I could understand how she was feeling: while an accomplished agent and marksman, Barton was still human. Him acting threatening towards a being on our level of power would feel like being threatened by a Chihuahua or something.

Still, the archer pressed on, almost vibrating with fury.

"I just had to bury my closest friend… I had to bury _family_ today! And you want to do this shit!? Here? Now?! Have some goddamn fucking respect before I fucking send an arrow through one ear and out the other!" Barton snarled, his sheer rage filling the room even though he didn't raise his voice.

Damn, Barton. You've got balls, I'll give you that much.

I cast out my telepathy, touching on the minds of the others, trying to gauge their reactions and determine whether or not they were on Barton's side, or on Danvers' side. I was surprised to find that many of them only really knew Danvers' name and face, but not much else. Carter and Fury had briefly introduced her to them, before whisking her away, off to some meeting or other. Brushing up against Steve Roger's mind revealed a little more from the bits and pieces Carter had revealed to her lover, though she kept a remarkable level of secrecy even with him. Apparently, they had gone off to various meetings with some military bigwigs and a whole bunch of Senators. Surprisingly little SHIELD personnel, but the reason for that became quickly apparent when I looked in on Peggy and Fury.

They both considered Carol to be a hidden Ace up their sleeves, something to make the currently upset balance of power more equal. Basically their nuclear option in dealing with me: they hoped that her strength added to the Avengers would not only take away their own fears and the fears of those within the world government who shared them, but that it would also keep me in check, make sure that I wouldn't start acting out or against the best interest of humanity.

Given how powerful they believed Carol to be, and how desperately they felt they needed her on their side, Carter and Fury had been determined to keep Hydra as far away from the superwoman as possible. Too bad that they had invited Pierce to the meeting due to his sway over several of the present senators and generals.

I should've killed that man a long time ago, I thought despondently. It just… never came up. Which was a shame, considering that left Bucky still in his clutches. Thinking it over, I felt rather bad that I hadn't alerted Captain America that his brother in all but blood was still alive, if brainwashed and under the enemy's control. There had been some vague ideas when I first sent Carter and Rogers after Zola, together with a list of low-level Hydra personnel, but I had mainly concentrated on keeping SHIELD and Hydra focused on each other so they'd stay out of my hair (… you know, _figuratively_ ). After actually getting my hands on Zola's secrets and using them to resurrect Phineas, I had completely let the Hydra-situation slip from my mind.

Carter was dealing with it, which meant I _didn't_ have to deal with it, and with how utterly hectic my life has become, I felt that that was a good thing and left it at that.

Since I can sense frustration from the SHIELD Directors, their plan to keep Carol around as a sort of passive-aggressive deterrent didn't work, _someone_ apparently giving her the tools and the push needed to come after me.

Hydra's influence at work, no doubt.

While I had learned from Whitehall that the organization was on its last legs (its infiltrators in the Government harassed by the remnants of Gao, Bakuto and Alexandragon's factions of the Hand and its infiltrators in SHIELD harassed by Carter) but I felt it was high time that the final heads of the organizations should fall. _Permanently_.

Especially since some of the remaining leaders were apparently becoming desperate enough there were some tentative talks about throwing caution and anonymity in the wind and going back to their roots: focusing solely on returning Hive to Earth at _any_ cost.

Yeah, better for everyone if I cut that little scheme off as soon as possible. Good thing my Hysminai are already deployed in the field to raid a few of Hydra's remaining toys, their locations generously (if unwillingly) provided by Whitehall.

Barton's angry words shake me from my errant thoughts, buying me some time by keeping Danvers' attention on him, but it also does little to defuse the tense situation. The Avengers, who have steadily been drawing closer to the confrontation, share his feelings for the most part. Steve is torn between his loyalty to Carter and his loyalty to his dead friend, but the others are much more clear on where _their_ loyalties lie.

Banner and Stark had very little faith in SHIELD to begin with, and they don't appreciate a woman they barely even know just walking into their home apparently ready to pick a fight with the guy who has saved Earth twice now. More importantly, they didn't want her picking a fight with the guy who was speculated to be capable of leveling city blocks right here in the tower.

They (and more importantly, their girlfriends) lived here after all.

Thor was interesting, partly because due to his Asgardian royal lineage, his mind was _much_ more difficult to read than the others. But he wore his emotions on his sleeve and I hardly needed telepathy to understand that Thor was _pissed_ at the disrespect the woman showed his dead friend and battle companion.

Disrespecting the dead is a big no-no in Asgardian culture (making Hela's acts even more villainous come to think of it).

Danvers herself was… also interesting. There was a brief flash of annoyance at the way Barton got in her face like that, but she was quick to dismiss him, her focus almost immediately returning to me. She _wanted_ to fight me, I realized. Exploring her surface thoughts a bit further, it was easy to see why.

Her entire mindset was… rigid. She saw things in black and white, heroes opposing villains. There were problems and dangers facing innocent people and it required those with extraordinary skills and abilities to combat said problems and dangers and thus save the people.

The ideal version of the classical hero, with her sense of self firmly rooted in said vision.

For her, the current situation was simple and straightforward and she was struggling to understand why other heroes were getting in her face over it instead of following her lead or at the very least stepping aside to let her do her damned job: I was the bad guy, she was the good guy, ergo I was in some dire need of being punched in the face and she was all too glad to provide said punching.

There wasn't even any specific hatred towards _me_ personally: it was more the concept of me, what she had been led to believe that I represented. This was _right_ , this was the way the world worked. Whenever there was evil, she would show up and defeat that evil in glorious combat, thus saving the day and being the ideal hero.

It was a remarkably… simplistic world view. Rather militant as well. I figured that discovering what created such an extraordinary worldview would allow me to better steer the current situation away from a violent confrontation, so I pushed somewhat deeper into her mind. Thankfully, a three-way shouting match had evolved between Barton, Fury and Stark, which kept Danvers' attention away from me right now.

I barely paid any attention to the argument as I delved deeper, only keeping a superficial "eye" on it. Stark and Barton were basically going 'what the hell dude?!' at Fury, while he was going 'look, this is the best I can do, alright!?' back at them. It seemed Carol's little stunt here was definitely _not_ how Fury and Carter had envisioned her role here on Earth, but since they couldn't exactly drag the powerful woman away from me, they had doubled down and decided to stick to their guns, determined to portray _some_ kind of control over the situation.

Ironic. Their lack of control over me fueled much of their original fears, but the person they brought in to deal with said fears proved to be equally difficult to control.

Reading deeper into Danvers' thoughts, I saw why the superwoman had gone off-script. Carter and Fury's original plan would've kept her on Earth for an extended period of time, at least until they felt that they had gotten back on their feet again, instead of being left in the dust compared to Othrys and (more importantly) _me_. But Carol felt extremely little for that plan, chafing at the thought of being chained to a single planet, kept around like a scary attack dog for who knows how long.

She wanted to get away from Earth. Or maybe not so much _away_ from Earth as back in outer space. As I had suspected, she had been waging a one man war against the entire Kree Empire, and while said empire of highly advanced superstrong blue-skinned aliens was far too expansive for her to do any crippling damage to, her efforts had tied up enough of their military might that they were slowly being forced to give ground to the Nova Empire.

Hence the possibility of peace talks that were being broadcasted onto almost every news outlet when I had visited Xandar, which gave me hope that Sterns had picked up some information on her when he was snooping around its massive library.

Carol didn't want to be contained on Earth at someone's beck and call for an undetermined amount of time: she wanted to go out there and fight the good fight. Considering the scale of battle that she had been operating on for the past thirty odd years, Earth just seemed like small fry to her (it was also why she wasn't really bothered by this being the day of Natasha's funeral. She had seen plenty of death after so much war that it was just a part of life to her now, not really anything special or noteworthy). In the theater of war between the forces of Good and Evil, Earth was just some minor side-piece.

Of course she'd come and help when needed (though reacting to a signal from a _pager_ that first had to travel from the one end of the universe to the other, it inevitably meant that she would always show up too late for the party, that's what heroes do after all. But this tiny, underdeveloped backwater was hardly enough to keep the star of the show contained. No, a person with _her_ power should be front and center, fighting off the villain of the week and being regarded as a hero by all.

It wasn't because she was a glory hound, but she _literally_ couldn't think of herself as anything less than a hero. No, not just _a_ hero: _the_ hero. That rigid world view of hers was built entirely on a self-image that was almost childlike in its ideology and simplicity (not to say that it was _childish_ , but it was very… uncomplicated).

This deep in her thoughts (I wasn't fully inside her mindscape or anything, but I had definitely gone beyond mere surface level thoughts) I could see what that worldview was based off: _massive_ amounts of damage to the very essence of her mind.

This damage wasn't just old, it was structured. Targeted. Someone (or some _thing_ ) had ripped apart and broken down who and what Carol Danvers was, and rebuilt her from the ground up. It was difficult to determine what she had been turned into and how or when without delving even further, which would leave my body in a sort of trance like state, but I _could_ tell that it was focused on rapid decision making, aggression and a focus on physical responses to outside stimuli.

My best guess was that she had been turned into a soldier of some sort. A weapon.

Had being the operative word here: the changes themselves didn't make up the majority of the damage after all. Those had been delicate and clean, surgical alterations in her very thoughts. I wouldn't be surprised if I found physical alterations in her actual brain as well.

But the majority of her mind was covered in the mental equivalent of harsh jagged cracks, or massive burn scars. The weapon that Danvers had been turned into had been broken, her programming ripped apart. Clearly, Carol had broken free from her Kree masters, though I couldn't tell how. Afterwards, she had built herself up again, but destroying whatever the Kree had done to keep her in check didn't just magically _undo_ the damage already done the original Danvers. So, Carol had tried to reinvent herself, but was only left with the broken and repurposed remains of the soldier she had been (Vers, a thought flows towards me).

So she had meshed the broken shards of this Vers together with whatever was left of Carol and thus Captain Marvel was born. But young Carol Danvers already had a me vs. them mentality, which had only been enhanced by her Kree programming, merely directed against the Empire's enemies (and _shit_ , Skrull were real after all, though for some unfathomable reason Captain Marvel thought they were friendly).

So when she rebuilt herself, it led to the very type of hero that had inspired fear in _me_ when I first woke up in the MCU.

A hero that is uncompromising in their battle against whatever they perceive as evil. A soldier in the name of all they think is good and right and woe to whoever stands in between them and their goal. Captain Marvel was the type of hero that enjoyed throwing villains through buildings and making the classic three-point landing and dramatic power-ups and force beams and at the end of the day they would look back onto the burning city and be satisfied they had saved the day (the nickname of Victoria Dallon, a hero in the Worm setting, suddenly came to mind: Collateral Damage Barbie).

And right now, _I_ was that bad guy, threatening the safety of her home planet, so she would just have to quickly deal with me and then get back to being a hero on an intergalactic level.

It was all she knew, after all.

All that she _could_ be. The dilemma that Steve went through, of the soldier without a war to fight and wondering whether he should be grateful or depressed, is something Captain Marvel apparently never went through. She couldn't. Her mind had been torn down, restructured and restructured _again_ , until all she was, and ever could be, was a soldier.

She just needed a war to fight and the Kree had been an acceptable target, both to Vers the soldier and Carol the human (who was _also_ a soldier).

It was like Frank Castle's condition when he became the Punisher, endlessly stuck in a fight or flight response. Only with superpowers.

' _Yeah…'_ I thought to myself as I settled back into my own mind again, focusing back on the superwoman who was honestly thinking she was doing the right thing here.

' _I don't really see a way in which this doesn't end in violence.'_

Less than a couple of seconds had passed while I dove into her mind and already Barton looked _really_ close to socking Fury right in the jaw. Fury looked like he would very much like to do the same to Barton, though his hands were still clasped behind his back and his frustration was less aimed at Barton and more at me, Carol and the world in general instead.

That's what you get when you tell a mentally traumatized superwoman who has been away from Earth for the past thirty years fighting an interplanetary Empire that she should stick around on Earth and do nothing but look scary.

She's going to say 'fuck it' and look for something to punch so she can get back to whatever she was doing.

In this case, that something was my face.

"Look, I'm sorry for your friend. I _am_. From what people told me, she was a good soldier and she died a hero. That doesn't change the fact that this man is _dangerous_. I've seen his kind a thousand times before: they _look_ genuine, help out the little guy and all the while they keep hoarding power, until it's too late and suddenly everyone has to bow down to their new all-powerful dictator. I'm _not_ going to let that happen on Earth. Either he comes quietly, or I knock him out and drag his ass behind me, but we are doing this _now_. I'm _not_ going to give him the chance to run to that fortress of his and hide inside. You don't have any idea how annoying it is to breach evil overlord lairs. They always have traps that try to crush you, gore you or set you on fire. Some of the more clever ones have traps that do all three. So, again, sorry for your friend, but dangerous evil warlord over there that I gotta take in. If you're with me? Good. If you're not? _Step aside_." Carol suddenly cut in, her voice a hard tone, her lidded eyes and turned down lips giving off an air of bored annoyance.

To her, this was a song and dance that she had performed a hundred times already, and it always ended the same way: with her standing victorious over the broken body of some local villain that had been terrorizing some planet or something.

She just wanted to get this over with and didn't even see me (or the other Avengers) as a real threat. Just things that were getting in her way and slowing her down while she could be doing more important stuff.

While I knew that she wasn't entirely to blame for her skewed world view, her dismissal of my power irritated me immensely. I had crushed the Chitauri Armada. I had erased Belathauzer. I had fought Dormammu in his own realm until he admitted defeat! I am Hyperion! I'm the New Titan of the East!

 _Nobody_ disrespects **me**!

Seeing the air around me waver, I realize with a start that Extremis was burning brightly inside of me, my veins casting an orange glow over my black suit as the air around me wavered. All conversation halted and the air turned cautious as all Avengers regarded me warily.

Carol just smirked in anticipation.

I calm down when I see a new stream of data on my HUD, courtesy of Phineas, as his voice hurriedly speaks up in my ear.

"Ask her to identify herself!"

I don't have to answer, Phineas immediately picking up on my unvoiced question.

"One of the rules for arresting someone to identify yourself, identify the person whose being arrested and then explain what charges are listed on the arrest warrant! She's only done two of those, and she hasn't shown us the warrant yet, _if_ she even has one! We can fight this! Not like _fight_ fight, but you know! _Legal_ fight!"

Inwardly I pat myself on the back for teaming up my supersmart AI ghost friend with my supersmart lawyer on putting together the PDF guidelines for the UNOOSA. It seems that Phineas has picked up quite a lot from that ongoing project by assisting Hogarth.

" _You_ gotta take me in, you say?" I rumble quietly, getting a confident nod from Carol as she uncrosses her arms and places them on her hips, looking at me challengingly.

"And you are… _who_ exactly?" I say with a lazy smile, getting a furrowed brow in return.

"What's it to you?" she asks in wary tone, anticipating either a sudden trap or a boring stereotypical villain speech of general evil-ness.

"The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized." I merely quote back at her with a relaxed smile as the last heat of my Extremis gently fades away.

Carol's confused, but Carter, Fury, Tony and Bruce immediately catch on to what I'm getting at, if their looks (ranging from immense frustration to sadistic glee) are anything to go by.

"There is something called the constitution, you know? Maybe you've heard of it? In particular, there's the Fourth Amendment, which states a few rather very _interesting_ things about what you're currently attempting." I continue, my own smile growing wider in accordance with Carol's rising frustration.

She never likes it when the villain starts talking, she just wants to get to the punching part already, dammit!

As I'm repeating almost verbatim what Phineas is whispering in my ear, I'm also looking through the files he's thrown up on my HUD, pulled from Sterns' cache of alien information. It's mainly news articles regarding activity in the outer reaches of the galaxy, discussions regarding a single figure that has been rumored to fight off the Kree on a multitude of planets. It's mostly speculation, mainly about her identity, her motives and even on whether or not she's even real. It would seem the Kree have done a fine job of hiding the fact they were consistently getting their asses kicked by a single person, but there was enough there that an idea started to form in my mind.

As I directed Phineas to dig up more files and start putting them together for what I needed, I continued talking about the Fourth Amendment.

"A valid arrest warrant _must_ be issued by a neutral judge or magistrate, who has determined there is probable cause for an arrest, based upon sworn testimony or an affidavit in support of the petition for a warrant. The arrest warrant must specifically identify the person to be arrested. If a law enforcement affiant provides false information or shows reckless disregard for the truth when providing an affidavit or testimony in support of an arrest warrant, that may constitute grounds to invalidate the warrant. So, let's get a few things in order. First, I'd like to see some credentials: proof that you're an officially licensed enforcement affiant. Second, I'd like to see the warrant itself. Third, I'd like my lawyer present." I rattle off, counting on my finger with each point, almost in sync with each jump in frustration that it causes Carol.

Carol's irritated, but also struggling how to react. As a hero, it's her job to stop the bad guy at any cost, but flaunting the law is something that villains do. It's not like she knows the law like the back of her hand (she sure as hell doesn't care about property damage or going after villains to make proper citizen arrests), but it's more like a nebulous construct to her that keeps the line between right and wrong clear.

Okay to bend as far as needed when the situation calls of it, but not something to be broken just for the sake of a little convenience.

"Carol Danvers. US Air Force." She bites out, arms crossed in front of her torso again.

I smile as she walks straight into my (or rather, Phineas') trap.

"Air Force you say? Well then, Miss Danvers, I regretfully have to inform you that you are currently violating the Posse Comitatus Act. Please refrain from trying to detain me or I shall have to contact the authorities and have you arrested." I say as I spread my arms wide, giving her the biggest, fakest smile I could.

The sudden reversal of our roles is enough that she drops her hands by her sides as she looks at me in surprise. Several of the people present, being connected to the military or SHIELD in various ways, know what I'm talking about, or at least recognize the name, but Thor is completely out of his depth, looking confused at the turn the conversation has taken.

"What is this Pussy Committee Act?" the prince of Asgard asks confused and there's a few seconds of stunned silence as we all look at him, before Bruce is the first to regain his composure, answering the Thunder God.

"The Posse Comitatus Act states that Army and Air Force personnel are expressly _forbidden_ from being used in police actions. Not even the president himself can order a member of the military to violate the Posse Comitatus Act, to the point that if they are ever deployed in a way that even _resembles_ law enforcement capacity, they are explicitly sent in unarmed."

He blushes as we turn to look at him, nervously tugging on his sleeves with a self-deprecating smile.

"When I first started running from Ross, I looked into finding some legal way to get him to back off. Problem is, most of those kinda laws state that there are exceptions to the rule in unique cases and pretty much everyone agreed that the… the Other Guys is pretty _unique_."

He trails off, before shooting me an apologetic look.

"They probably authorized something similar for you, I imagine." He says with a weary tone, his years of experience on the run from his own government clear in his tone and thoughts as he addresses me, one feared monster to another.

Carol's sudden grin snaps my gaze back towards her, and she spreads her arms as well, mirroring my earlier gesture.

"And I'm not armed either, as you can see."

Bullshit. I've seen enough of her memories and from the various data that Sterns has collected to know that there's not just her strength, durability and flight to worry about, but her laser beams as well.

"You are still a member of the Air Force. You _literally_ cannot apprehend me. Lay so much as a finger on me and not only will I have you arrested, I'll sue you, SHIELD and every single idiot senator and general that authorized this little scheme of yours." I say harshly, anger rising in me as I feel the situation sliding back towards outright violence again.

"That _would_ be the case... if she didn't happen to be on loan to us from the US Air Force as a special operative dealing with high-risk confrontation and containment situations. Unusual, I'll admit, but we talked it over with some… _friends_ in the military and they were more than happy to help. We've authorized Danvers to act in the field as an Agent of SHIELD with Level 9 clearance. As for the warrant, it's right here. Feel free to look through it if you want." Carter says smoothly, physically brushing past Carol as her slim hand reach into an inner pocket of her suit jacket.

With a smooth motion of her arm, she retrieves a long, slim folded piece of paper, presenting it to me with a steady hand as she keeps her gaze locked with mine. Her eyes are expressive and her unvoiced message to me is as clear as day, even if I didn't possess telepathy.

 _'Please. Please play along and come quietly. None of us want this to escalate.'_

… Yeah, sorry but no. I know that I didn't want this to turn violent, but this just takes the cake in brazen asshole-ishness. If you'd just been straightforward and honest and just contacted me like a normal person (I have a website with my info on it for crying out loud!), asking me _politely_ to come to the Capitol to reassure various branches of the Government that I wasn't just going to go Evil Overlord on them all, I'd be _happy_ to indulge you. Stability works in my favor as well you know?

But _no_ , you just had to go all paranoid superspy on me and suspect me of completely disregarding the existing powerstructure of modern day society with some nebulous goals towards world domination somewhere down the line.

... fine, you're actually correct in assuming that, but still!

I get that you all being here can be pretty much solely be blamed on Carol's impatience in dealing with me, but that doesn't change the fact that you're confronting me on the same day as one of the Avengers was buried with full honors. That's just distasteful.

So no, I'm _not_ going to just play along and go quietly. I won't go at all. I'll still try to resolve things non-violently, but at the end of the day, I'll be going back home to Othrys and nowhere else, and certainly not wherever someone else orders me to go. Whether I'll go home leaving a trail of broken bodies in my way is entirely in their hands now. They try and use any level of force or coercion on me, and I'll unleash hell on them.

... figuratively speaking, of course.

As I finish ranting in my mind, I take the slim envelope from her hands with my massive fingers without a word. I deftly flick it open, taking mere moments to scan the document and then a few moments more to cut through all the legalese bullcrap and flowery language to get to the heart of the matter. It's pretty much exactly what Carol first accused me off. They believe I've taken the Scepter and the Tesseract, and that I've killed those three soldiers when I first recruited Sterns while Blonsky and Banner were ripping up Harlem, and have cited they have several witnesses that would agree to come forwards and attest to both claims.

Interestingly enough, there's nothing about the theft of Tony's Arc Reactors in here. While we never really went to court over it (sure, our legal teams circled each other occasionally, but the cost-risk assessment never really favored either party at the time) and it hadn't really gotten in the public eye, Fury and Carter should _definitely_ be aware of Stark's own suspicions of my criminal past nonetheless.

The fact that they haven't incorporated it into the warrant confirms my suspicion that they haven't involved the Avengers (or at the very least Tony) in setting up this little scheme. The fact that they think they have witnesses is worrying though: going along and fighting this out in court might actually work against me if they can make a strong enough case out of this. It would certainly harm my credibility and my popularity with the general masses.

"This is a very nice piece of paper. But you and I both know that that is all this is: a piece of paper, not even worth the ink that's printed on it. All these outrageous claims of yours sure are sensational, but without proof they're useless. The SHIELD objects I have _allegedly_ stolen are classified to hell and back so you wouldn't even be able to use them in court and even if you were so desperate to take me down that you'd disclose both of them, my lawyer would still utterly rip your ownership claims to absolute shreds. The scepter was brought to Earth by Loki, so it isn't SHIELD's to begin with and the Tesseract, _if_ it even belongs to anyone, is Odin's. Good luck fighting _him_ in court. As for those soldiers... the destruction that Blonsky caused in Harlem is well known. What are people going to think when they realize you've been digging through the mountain of corpses he left that night, trying to find a few you can try and pin on _me_? This? This will never hold up. You've got nothing." I growl back, letting the paper fall to the ground with a dismissive flick of my hand.

I can feel Carter's resignation as she briefly closes her tired eyes, and the rising anticipation of battle in Carol, but surprisingly it's Fury who steps forward, a tight, grim smile on his face.

"Funny thing, you bringing up the Fourth Amendment. See, I've been doing my homework too, catching up on my reading. And there's a very interesting thing the law says about arrest warrants, something you brought up yourself as well. We don't need proof. _Proof_ , is for the _courts_. There you can give _all_ the speeches you want and that lawyer of yours can do all the 'shredding' she wants. But out _here_? Right _now_? All we need, is a little something called _probable cause._ "

He leans in a bit further, tilting his body so his good eye is focused wholly on me.

"And some dude who can level skyscrapers, maybe even level motherfucking _cities_? Now _that_... I'd call probable cause." he says lowly.

"Face it, McCole. This only ends _one_ way: with you finally unable to hide anymore behind a legal team and your fancy walls. After today you'll be answering for every single crime and murder you've been trying to hide. The only thing left to decide now, is whether we're going to do this the easy way... or the _fun_ way." Carol says with a smirk as she crosses her arms again, giving me a challenging look.

For a moment, a pregnant pause silences the room as I slightly bow my head in thought. I can feel the hidden relief coming from Fury and Carter as it _finally_ seems I'm giving up and coming along, as well as the annoyance from Carol that she isn't going to get the fight she wanted.

The Avengers... don't really know what to think and for the most part have individually come to the same conclusion: they'll protect themselves and the innocents around us, but aid neither Carol or me should we come to blows.

The silence is suddenly shattered (as are Fury's and Carter's hopes) when I suddenly look up with a devilish grin.

... again, I mean that _figuratively_.

I had only kept silent for a moment because I needed to buy Phineas a few seconds for him to complete our impromptu little project. Now that it was finished, however, it was time to unveil my new method of attack. I swiftly dip a hand in my pocket, revealing an average sized, smooth glass plate, which I nonchalantly toss a little forwards, until it's about halfway in-between me and Carol.

Instead of falling completely to the ground, it hovers in place, hanging smoothly in mid air roughly a meter and a half from the ground. Almost immediately, a series of large holographic screens bloom out to surround it on all sides, showing... Carol.

Having taken every little scrap that he could find in the databanks that Sterns had brought back with him, Phineas had created a collage of everything Captain Marvel, from news articles, to found footage short films, blurry pictures and even forum discussions. All edited and put together to paint the _worst_ possible picture of Carol Danvers.

His efforts in that regard were made significantly easier by the fact that, to most of the galaxy, Carol was something of an urban legend. Operating _deep_ within the Kree Empire's borders or on the outer edges of the Galaxy, not many people had actually met her or even seen her in action. There were reports and sightings of course, but the very notion that a single organism was flying around taking down Kree battle fleets was utterly inconceivable to most aliens and she had a sort of Bigfoot-status amongst most of them.

This was intentionally done by the Kree Empire. They kept a tight lid on _any_ news of Captain Marvel reaching the outside world and their propaganda machine was tireless in taking every single act that Carol did and twisting it around until to most of the Kree, Captain Marvel was nothing short of the boogeyman. The fact that she apparently waged war on the Kree in service of the _Skrull_ (some of the major baddies in the comics and several shows, I recall) served to enhance this image.

All in all, cleverly splicing the Kree propaganda with the other articles Sterns had picked up (which even included some promotional material from when Carol was fighting for the Kree as well, even though _officially_ it was banned after her rebellion) served to create a horrifying picture.

What was that quote in Doctor Who again? Ah, yes.

"The most feared being in all the cosmos. Nothing could stop it or hold it or reason with it. One day it would just drop out of the sky and tear down your world..."

We just made Carol look _worse_ than that.

"This... these are _lies_! This isn't true!" she yelled in shock and anger.

For a woman whose whole worldview is constructed from a self image as the ultimate hero, seeing herself vilified like that must be a punch to the gut, super durability be damned.

" _Really_ now, Captain Danvers? Can you not see the irony here? The hypocrisy? Clearly, you've destroyed starships, leveled bunkers, toppled skyscrapers, on some sort of crusade for the Skrull, which are apparently a monstrous race of deceivers and liars. In their name have you caused untold death and destruction amongst the planets of the Kree. You've chased them away from habitable star systems and even on occasion kidnapped them by the _dozens_! Yet _you_ claim that this is a misrepresentation of the truth. Other parties have twisted your image to make you appear as monstrous as you do. Tell me now, Captain: can you not see the parallels between you and I? I've protected humanity, using all of my power and skill, but because others fear it and crave it, they've painted _me_ as a monster and then pointed you in _my_ direction."

"We're not the same! We're _nothing_ alike! I'm _not_ a villain and I'm nobody's puppet!" Carol hisses furiously, and there's a glow beginning to build in her eyes.

I look back at the various screens that light up the room, gently rotating and rapidly shifting from one scene to the next. Slowly, deliberately, I reach out and touch one screen with my index finger. It sticks there, halting the steady turning of the whole of the projection, before with a sudden snap, the other screens disappear. The one stuck to my finger rapidly increases almost ten times in size, making the scene easily visible to all.

As I let go, the video continues playing. It's a military installation, a low-slung, durable looking bunker of sorts, definitely in Kree territory judging by the architecture (something I've gotten familiar with over the long time I've been studying the Kree City here on Earth). The footage seems to come from some security camera on the outer perimeter of the compound. The video quality is surprisingly good, though there's no audio. We don't need it, as we see panicked looking Kree run around like an agitated ant-hill, and from somewhere in the building there are brief bursts of light.

Gunfire would be someone's first guess, but I know better. And sure enough, part of the roof of the bunker explodes outwards as if it were a volcano erupting. From the massive spray of rubble and flame rises a blinding point of light, which slowly dies away until a single flying figure can be seen, wreathed in flame.

And then something critical inside of the base goes horribly wrong, there's a wall of light, flame, stone and heat that races towards the camera... and then nothing. Just static.

"How many, I wonder? How many died in that attack? How many more in the fall out? A populous planet in the outer rims of the galaxy without a military presence? A gift-wrapped present for Ravagers and slavers alike. And _this_ … this is just _one_ base. On _one_ day. You've been attacking _hundreds_ of their worlds, Miss Danvers, for the past _thirty_ _years_. How many blood is there on _your_ hands, all for this Greater Good of yours, this righteous cause?" I coldly muse, looking at Carol from the corner of my eye.

"Between the two of us, tell me honestly: which one of us looks more like the villain here?"

 _That_ seems to send her over the edge, and there's a sudden bright flash and a dull 'whump!' sound as she immediately shrouded in a corona of flame-like light. Her eyes are blazing and her hair seems to move in an unseen wind as her casual business suit whips around her.

"Lying won't save you. I'll just _beat_ the truth out of you if I have to. You may have others fooled, but _I_ know what you really are and I _won't_ allow you to ever hurt these people!" she bites in a voice that's barely able to hide her rage, her feet slowly lifting off the ground as she starts hovering.

"Wait, _what_?! She's a _Super Saiyan_?!" I can hear Phineas shout in my ear, but I'm barely listening to him, more confused as to why I'm suddenly picking up Jude Law's face from Carol's roaring mind.

I can't really focus on figuring _that_ out though, since I've got bigger fish to fry: once again the air around me is wavering from the heat I'm giving off.. Being so close to someone who's clearly going to attack me is setting my combat instincts on high-alert, and my veins are blazing with the glow from Extremis before I'm even consciously aware of it.

Slowly glancing the glowing woman up and down, I leisurely raise an eyebrow even as I viciously hammer down my own combat instincts that are screaming at me to engage in battle and level everything around me in a ten mile radius to the ground.

"That's a neat trick. I can do something similar." I rumble slowly.

With those words, my Meteor Fists blaze to life, the flesh of my hands a molten glowing gold as I keep my open palms slightly raised in front of me. But I don't stop calling on my Chi. Instead I keep gathering my internal power, continue focusing on the metaphysical might of my body as I draw from a well of force deep inside of me.

And as I suddenly clench my hands into fists with a grunt and the baring of clenched teeth, the glow blazes from every other part of me as well, my entire form enveloped by the tell-tale blazing shine of my Chi.

Being stuck with nothing to do but train my mind and body for so long while experimenting with my new powers of energy absorption and emission derived from close contact with the Power Stone has done absolute _wonders_ for my Chi abilities.

I haven't really felt a need to bring it out until now, so Phineas is rather understandably floored by my sudden new appearance as a molten humanoid sun enveloped in a glowing blanket of visible glowing force.

"Wait?! _You're_ a Super Saiyan too?!"

Not now Phineas. This is difficult enough to keep up as it is, requiring massive amounts of my concentration. you can gush and geek out _later_. Looking back up at the similarly glowing Carol (though there are subtle differences: _her_ glow is a flame-like shroud that envelops her body, whereas _my_ glow is like the steady brightness from the sun and coming from within my body), I can see that's she's surprised at my new form, before she sets her jaw and narrows her eyes.

Right, it takes more than a light-show to make _her_ back down from a fight.

There's a sudden bright flash off to our side, almost like an overpowered camera or something, but when we both slightly turn that way, we see that it was Thor instead. He has summoned Mjolnir to his hand and is now in his full battle regalia (without the helmet of course), cloak settling in heavy folds at his back as he stares us down with a frown.

To his left, Tony has suited up as well (and behind him I can see a slimmer Iron Man armor envelop a worried looking Pepper), while to his right, Bruce is doing something far more scary looking than his fellow Avengers' suit up sequence.

He merely takes off his glasses with a sigh, handing them over to Betty with a small smile as he also quickly takes off his watch. Giving her hands a firm squeeze, he gently pushes her to stand behind him, before turning back to face the two of us as he merely places his hands in his pockets.

His eyes are a blazing shade of green.

"Look, I'm _sure_ you two glow-sticks just can't wait to have a dick-swinging contest about who can pretend to be Christmas decorations better - no offense lady- but I'd _much_ prefer it if you _didn't_ have that contest in my living room. It's where I keep my most expensive whiskey after all." Tony's mechanical voice comes from the speakers in his armor as he lifts his hands, palms forwards.

What's usually a peaceful gesture becomes something much more threatening as each repulsor is trained on Carol and I. Though more _threatening_ is somewhat relative here, since those blasts aren't really going to do much damage to either of us.

I've tanked _far_ worse than his repulsor blasts, even without my Aurelion Armor or Power Shield, and considering Carol has survived entire battleship gun batteries firing one salvo after the other, I'm pretty sure she'll be fine as well.

 _However_ , add that firepower to the other Avengers (I can even see Rhodey and Happy running out of the room together, presumably to go put on their own armors as well), and those glowing palms suddenly become something not so easily dismissed.

Glancing at the floating Carol from the corner of my eye, and recalling Phineas' shocked exclamations, I can't help myself from grinning despite the current situation.

"Let's fight somewhere empty." I casually say towards Captain Marvel.

She has just enough time to look at me with a confused look, before a portal snaps open behind her. Taking a portal takes some time to set up, with the casting time decreasing the higher the mastery of the Sorcerer. Now, I wasn't on the level of the Ancient One ( _yet_ ), or some of the elder Masters at the Sanctums that hadn't died during Hell Week, but my skill level was pretty decently above average.

Which is why I made sure to finish the casting _before_ I grabbed Carol's attention.

She has superb reflexes, already moving away from the glowing circle before it's even fully finished forming. I doubt she has had much (if any) experience with spells or magic, but she _does_ have decades of experience of people hurling dangerous shit her way.

Still, as fast as she is… I'm _faster_.

A simple flex in my legs absolutely shatters the floor beneath me, a tremor shaking the building as I destroy several of the large windows behind me. The push-off, combined with my flight, sends me across the room in less time than it takes someone to blink, and I can see Carol's eyes widen as I go from standing several feet away to right inside her guard as nothing more than a golden blur.

And then her eyes widen even further as a massive fist buries itself deep in her stomach, her expression turning into one of shock and… some mere pain? _Damn_ , she's tough. I expected to knock her down (if not out) with a single hit. Not that it really matters. For just a single moment, time seems to freeze as she's hanging there in mid-air. Then reality kicks in again, there's a sound like a thunder-clap filling the large room, a shockwave of force and air bowling the nearest people in the crowd straight off their feet and Carol is launched through the portal at speeds faster than sound.

There's a stunned silence as I straighten, still in my full-body Chi form, before I glance to my left where Carter is helping Fury to his feet. Both are looking at me wide-eyed.

" **We'll discuss this further… at a more** _ **appropriate time**_ **.** " my voice booms loudly, my throat of course enhanced by Chi as well.

Yeah, they fucked up big time and they know it, judging from their expressions. I can hear a sonic boom coming through the portal and I realize that the fight has only just begun, so I make to go through as well. Right on the threshold, however, I turn to look at the ruffled Avengers.

" **... sorry 'bout the floor Stark. My bad. Send me a bill, alright?** "

Seeing his slow nod, I give him one in return, before stepping through the portal as well, letting it snap shut behind me-

" **Whoah!** "

-and immediately throwing myself vertically Neo-style as a force-field covered arm sails through where my head was mere moments ago. Unlike Neo when he did the most famous bullet-dodge in movie history, I can fly and instead of merely leaning back, I fly horizontally as Carol passes me overhead.

Right until her feet are above me. My glowing hands shoot out, grabbing her left leg right underneath the knee, wrapping almost entirely around her shin and calf.

And then I fly up and forwards myself, throwing myself into a frontwards flip as I bring down my hands with a roar towards the ground… and throwing Carol towards it at break-neck speeds as well. Once more, she's nothing but a blur for a second or two, before there's an earth-shattering _boom_! as a cloud of sand and dust blasts out in all directions.

I did exactly what I told her before I punched her halfway across the planet: I took her somewhere empty. Specifically, the Namibian desert, not so far off from where the ocean meets the endless sands as I find out when I glance out towards my left.

While engaging in battle wasn't the best outcome of that confrontation, I realized it was somewhat inevitable. Carol saw what she thought was a villain (apparently similar to Jude Law… _somehow_ ) and wanted to deal with it the way she had dealt with every villain she's faced so far: pure, overwhelming force.

To be fair, it certainly has seemed to work out for her. So far.

That was difficult enough to deal with on it's own, but the way Carter was prepared to counter my own arguments, coupled with her and Fury's memories told me that the law wasn't on my side here. If they really _did_ have dirt on me, then letting it come to light in a massive court case could have devastating consequences for my company and my people. It didn't matter whether or not they were bluffing: clearly the Government was eager to put a leash on me and while they managed to use the law to their advantage _this_ time, it was foolish to think that they'd even bother with such things in the future.

Like Bruce said, there were plenty of exceptions that could be made for unique circumstances.

This was a US Government that was infiltrated by Neo-Nazi's and corrupt to its core. They were already disregarding the law and lying through their teeth just in dealing with the general populace and foreign powers. If they decided to go all or nothing in how they handled me, if they _really_ wanted to give it their all to put me under their control…

Laws might as well be non-existent at that point.

So, the best thing to do in that case was something similar in how people protect themselves in prison: you find the biggest, baddest, meanest guy around, and you beat the everloving crap out of them. Captain Marvel was the Government's biggest guy since the Avengers didn't really dance to SHIELD's tunes anymore (if they ever _really_ did, that is), so I would do the same to her. Just not in the middle of New York where heroes and innocent crowds might get caught in the crossfire, instead taking the fight to a location of my choosing, where I could cut loose.

It was meant to send a message to the people behind this move, and to those who supported it: Do. _Not_. **Fuck with me**.

Hopefully, they'd get it and not do something… unwise.

Speaking off, in the short while that I had been going over the events of the past five minutes, Carol blasted off from the sands, her corona of power shining a blinding white as she rocketed up towards me at impressive speeds. I briefly stop flying, immediately plummeting several feet as I twist myself around, before blasting off again, neatly avoiding Marvel's blind charge.

However, it quickly becomes apparent that she anticipated this, since she keeps rocketing upwards in the direction of the sun, the glow of her power blending seamlessly with its powerful rays in the blue clear sky. Twisting myself around, I'm forced to look up towards her, and I can barely distinguish her as she moves in front of the sun.

Clever girl. Most other beings would be too blinded to really see her, allowing her to freely attack from above.

Which is _exactly_ what she does next, as several blinding bolts of energy come screaming down at me in a barrage of furious attacks. I spot them too late to dodge, and several impact my body. My suit, despite being treated with the Amber Armor, is smoking and charred wherever she hit me, the blast themselves having enough force to them that each impacts knocks me back in the air as if I'm being punched by something remarkably strong.

Despite this, I can't help but… well, _laugh_.

Not because I don't respect her strength or anything, but because of the imagery this attack provides. She thinks energy lancing down from the sun can harm _me_? I'm Hyperion, bitch! This is _my_ domain!

Cutting off my full-body Chi form (I can't keep it up _and_ charge a massive spell at the same time) I instead move my arms quickly through the same patterns that I used against Belathauzer, connecting to the blazing sun above me on a level that goes _beyond_ simple magic. Meanwhile, the blasts keep hammering down on me, and my suit is looking absolutely ruined by now. One the other hand, each thundering impact allowed me to absorb slight remnants of its energy, almost like tasting it. And each blast made me more attune to that distinct taste.

Carol must've seen that I was up to something, because she immediately doubled her rate of fire, even though each blast didn't diminish in strength (if anything, her desperate bid to cut off my attack made them feel even _more_ powerful). It wasn't enough though. I certainly felt each and every impact, and while they stung, I was durable enough (and my pain-threshold high enough) that I managed to ignore them, even as bits of her energy seeped through my skin.

And then it truly didn't matter what she tried anymore, because with a roar, I raised one of my hands, palm splayed open. Then I closed it around something pure and solid and _powerful_ , and I violently brought my hand down. As if I were a conductor and the sun my orchestra, it almost seemed to follow my movements, appearing to fall from the sky, it's size and glow ballooning immensely, outlining the figure of the flying Captain Marvel in stark contrast.

And then the beam impacted her back and blasted her into the majestic dunes below at speeds rivalling that of light itself. The beam was gargantuan, almost like a physical tower made of pure sunlight as I kept the attack going, my arm trembling and my teeth bared, my entire body glowing with Extremis as I pushed my body and self-control to the limit.

I didn't have to focus as much on containing the destructive energy of the blast here as when I used this attack against Belathauzer during Hell Week, considering there was nothing around us for miles. But I still needed to take care so I didn't set the atmosphere on fire or something. After a full ten seconds, I gave a deep gasp as I let my power slide away from me, straightening with a huff as the solid beam broke apart and almost gently dissapeared.

I let out a whistle as I looked below me.

It was like a cracked and blackened mirror was looking back up at me. In a roughly circular pattern nearly two miles in diameter sat below me, nothing but glowing molten glass where my collected beam of pure sunlight hat hit the desert sands. The glass gradually went over back into sand again, but surrounding the circle of Hell-looking Earth the dunes were blasted back as if a giant had taken a shovel to the Namibian desert with the intention of flattening it into a pancake.

It's the very picture of excessive amount of firepower, but Carol's supposed to be tough if she can take on the Kree by her lonesome, which definitely her in the same category as the Hulk and Thor, so she probably survived that. So, until I see a body, I'm going to remain cautious.

I've died from making that mistake far too many times to be anything less than paranoid even now.

I cut my power of flight, plummeting a few miles down to Earth in the span of a few seconds, my impact shattering the cooling glass in a massive blast, spraying pieces of the red hot molten sand around me. My eyes scan my surroundings for any sign of activity, but I can't spot Captain Marvel's body. I don't believe that attack completely burnt away even her skeleton, so I keep looking, all of my senses on high-alert.

Good thing too, since there's barely any time to react when the ground a few feet to my left suddenly heaves and buckles, before the pissed off form of Carol Danvers bursts from the ground, attacking me with murder in her eyes.

Her skin is the tell-tale red of someone who has gotten a sunburn, and her hair is definitely a lighter blonde than it was before by several shades. Most of her business suit is destroyed, either burnt or completely gone, especially across her back. The rags are barely holding on enough to protect her modesty, which is probably because the brunt of the attack was withstood by her own energy field.

Clearly, that field doesn't block the heat and radiation as well as it did with the sheer _power_ of the attack.

Not that I really bother to focus very hard on her appearance. Ever since Hell Week ended, I've been forcing myself to _not_ react violently when someone makes a sudden movement near me. It's been… difficult, and there are a lot of people out there that are blissfully unaware of just how _close_ they got to being turned into sushi, spared only by my iron willpower and determination in holding my own body back.

But _that_ was when I was dealing with innocents: that category hardly applies to the beserker woman mere inches away from me.

I move almost on autopilot. Assisted by my flight, I violently twist out of the way, evading her outstretched grasp while staying roughly in the same place. She tries to react, but she's less capable of abruptly accelerating, decelerating and turning on a dime like I can.

Thanks, Heartshaped Herbs!

As she's flying past me, roughly at the level of my torso, I brutally bring my knee up, again catching her full in the stomach. The force of my blow changes her trajectory from forwards to upwards, but she's only moved a few inches before I bring down a double-fisted hammerblow straight to the small of her uncovered back.

She rockets _into_ the glassed ground beneath us, sending shards of glass flying everywhere, but before the molten sand has a chance to even hit the ground again, my foot crashes into her side, as if I'm punting a football. And much like a football, Captain Marvel shoots away from me in an arc through the air for several yards, before crashing through the upper part of a dune, blasting the entire thing apart with her body.

It briefly reminded me of the scene where Superman first learns to fly in Antarctica, crashing through a mountain in Man of Steel.

You know, just with sand instead.

While I'm fairly certain that I outclass her in the power department in pretty much every aspect, I'm still wary of letting an opponent with her level of strength, skill and speed out of my sight, so I follow her trajectory right on her heels.

Only to be greeted with a blast straight to the face the moment I burst from the dust cloud she left in her wake. I manage to absorb a significantly larger part of the energy in the blast this time (even if it is with my face), so the blow doesn't really sting quite as badly as the others had, but I'm still blinded for a few moments.

Long enough to be taken off guard when I can sense a shadow falling over me. Blinking the last bright spots from my vision, I look up-

"What the-"

-straight at the underside of a derelict ship as it rushes towards me at a startling move for something so quick, its metal skeleton groaning and distorting under the massive forces that are tearing its body apart, even as they are propelling it straight at my face at speeds rivalling bullets.

I manage to get my hands up just in time, but the sheer speed combined with its _enormous_ mass still means I'm shoved back hundreds of meters as the shipwreck crashes into me. The bones in my forearms creak in protest and a sharp flare of pain in my wrists and hands tells me I've either sprained or broken some of the smaller bones there.

Considering I just caught a fucking _ship_ that was _thrown_ at me, and I'm not really that surprised.

My entire sight is taken up by the darkened underside of the ship, but I can still sense Carol's energy signature approaching me rapidly, coming from my right and slightly below in a diagonal trajectory. Her own level of power is working against her here, since it makes it easy for me to track. With a grunt, I bite through my slight pain, my fingers sinking deep into the metal underbelly as I use its momentum. I'm still being pushed backwards, but instead of fighting it to come to a stop, I fall away instead, turning right with an enormous heave as I pull the ship with me.

And with a torturous groan of snapping supports and tearing metal, the entire thing is whipped around as I send it _slamming_ into Carol's side like a baseball bat made of ship. _Very_ briefly I can spot her wide-eyed look, but then the side of the ship crashes into her, wrapping around her as I send her off flying back towards the (actually quite beautiful) shoreline of Namibia.

Of course, exerting such massive forces of such little surface area has completely torn the ship apart, and I drop the shorn off bottom-half of the prow that I'm left holding as the rest of the ship crashes back into the sands where it has rested undisturbed for decades.

It tumbles a few times, slinging off parts of itself, before it slides to a stop, the pitiful rests of an already dilapidated wreck.

Because I've viewed nearly every single available piece of footage the intergalactic community has on her, I already know Carol's next move: it's the same one she used in the little clip I played in front of everyone, after all.

As predicted, a bright missile of light slams outwards from the ruined wreckage, spreading rusted metal everywhere as she becomes a literal rising star.

Right until my fist meets her face at the apex of her rise, having predicted her movements damn near perfectly. I added a little bit more of an 'oomph!' this time, however, purple veins shining in stark contrast with the rest of my body's orange glow. Like I did when I addressed those crowds at the docks when they wanted me to resurrect their dead, I leeched energy from the Power Stone and directed it through my body.

Except, _this_ time, instead of taking a little and sending it to my throat, I sent it into my fist instead.

And I took _a lot_.

It's almost like when I first hit her with my full-body Chi punch, but there are some differences. For one, instead of a blast of force and air rocketing out, it's a hazy crackling purple energy field and its area is much, _much_ larger than before. Also, because I hit her _face_ this time instead of her stomach, her trajectory isn't as smooth. Instead, she's sent spinning heads over heels completely out of control as she rockets away from me, down and towards the shore.

When she impacts the ground, it's in the shallows, very close to the dividing line between land and ocean, just a few feet off from the beach itself. The crash is _massive_ , a spray of water, mud and sand flying high into the air while the water itself is blasted back from her impact zone, a several feet long and deep trench.

As the ocean slowly trickles back in, evaporating into steam wherever it touches her, I can see that the water there is less than a few feet deep, as amazingly enough, the still conscious Captain crawls out of her crash site on trembling arms, refusing to stay down. She falls back into the water with labored gasps, trying to gather her strength as she tries to push herself up again, to get back into the fight.

At least until I slam down on top of her fit first, crashing straight into her chest. The impact once again pushes back the water with a gale force of displaced air and sheer power, burying the alien-enhanced woman further into the sand with a pained gasp.

Her expression turns from rage to fear though, when the water rushes back in again… and I don't move. I can feel her desperately try and push me off of her, but I keep pressing down instead. As the water closes over her face, she tries to dart off to the sides instead, trying to slip from underneath my shoes. However, that too fails as I keep her in place using my telekinesis, while pushing straight down on her with my flight, effectively trapping her.

My mind is strained to its limit whenever she makes a desperate move, her limbs churning the low waters and throwing loose the sands, the mental feedback from my telekinesis trying to contain her strength like sharp lances through my brain.

It's like trying to stop a rampaging Hulk with nothing but your thoughts.

However, her frantic movements and enormous strength mean that she's also throwing away the sand around and underneath her, and on the same principle that a boa uses to constrict its prey, whenever there's a little space between her and the seafloor, I push down further, and again, and again, and _again_.

She's literally digging herself a watery grave.

Because it doesn't matter how durable you are… if you still gotta breath, then you should be just as afraid of drowning like everybody else. Yes, she could survive in space, but only when encased in that powerfield of hers, and it kept shorting out whenever I pushed her further into the sands.

I can see the realization settle with her as well when I'm up to my belly in the cold ocean waters, her form barely visible through the murk of the disturbed sands. Right until she explodes with light again, roaring in rage and desperation as she redoubles her efforts to try and buck me off.

She almost succeeds, and to my surprise I find that the water level (boiling as it is) receding until it's just below my hips. Seeing her success, Carol's shroud of power manages to increase even further as she digs deeps and pushes on, bubbles bursting through the water as she roars in defiance.

Right until my right leg suddenly glows gold, a crackling of purple energy barely visible through the rips in my pants, before I violently bring it down on her. As my heel crashes into her sternum, the resulting shockwave doesn't just blast back the water and the sand. It's almost like the entire world heaves, reality itself acting like it got a punch to the gut. A shuddering motion simply lifts up the water as slams it to the sides, as if I'm Moses parting the Red Sea, the surface of the Ocean for miles around shuddering and roiling.

Behind me, dunes crumble and the beach crashes into the water in foaming sprays as this part of Namibia's coastline sinks several feet further into the Ocean, even as the entirety of the seafloor in a radius of several dozen feet gets flattened and shoved down, as if God himself took an invisible step on the Earth.

And Carol… she goes slightly cross-eyes from the pain as all that power crashes into her torso, the breath snatched from her lungs and replaced with the unforgiving cold of seawater. She starts coughing and shaking, but it's a far cry from her titanic struggles from before. Still, even this battered, she refuses to give in, her left hand balling into a fist as she slams it into my lower leg. The force is negligible, almost on the level of a mere human, but she repeats it again, even as her lungs keep filling up, and again, even as her sight gets blurry from the tears streaming from them, and _again_ as she lets out one last mighty yell…

And then she's shivering and coughing after I simply reach down with one hand and pull her from the ocean by her head. She's just hanging there in my grasp, looking like a drowned kitten, her eyes barely capable of focusing on me as she keeps coughing and gasping.

Her hands are still balled into fists though.

Turning, I casually toss her to the beach, where she lands in a pitiful heap of gangly limbs and ruined clothes, flopping around a couple of times before she manages to lie on her stomach, heaving as her body desperately tries to remove the water from her lungs.

I casually stroll towards her at an easy pace, and she hears my approach. Shivering, she tries to roll so she can see me, spit and bile staining her lips. I raise an impressed eyebrow when defiance still manages to find it's way back into her gaze as she locks eyes with me, even as I'm looming over her defeated form.

Said eyebrow rises a little higher when she digs her hands in the ground underneath her, grunting and struggling before she manages to lift her weary body. She lacks the strength for now to fully work herself to her feet, only managing to get her torso upright as she kneeling in the disturbed sands, even though she's looking healthier by the second.

Give her a couple minute and she would probably recover to the point you couldn't even tell she had nearly drowned. Give her around an hour and she could potentially be back in full fighting shape. I could tell that she was like a tank, running on empty, but from some unseen well deep inside of her, sheer energy, pure and _powerful_ rushed back in to fill said tank again.

It reminded me of Jessica's field, but with the dial turned to Eleven. Something in the activation of her powers must have been ridiculously powerful to jumpstart it like that, and given how long she was a weapon for the Kree, I doubted that she would fully qualify as 'human' anymore, so that could explain this souped up version of Jessica's power.

The Kree _did_ enjoy tweaking human genetics in order to turn us into weapons after all.

Oblivious to my thoughts, Carol hacks up the last of the seawater in her lungs, spitting it at my feet, before she leans back, staring at me in rage and defiance.

"Come on then. _Finish it_. I'm not afraid of dying, and I'm sure as hell not afraid of _you_." she manages to bite out, tilting her chin up at me as she tries to stare me down.

That… is precisely what a hero would say in a cheesy movie or something. Even now, Carol's idea of herself as a classical hero was undiminished, her worldview unchanged. Impressive or disturbing, I couldn't really tell.

"Kill you? No, Miss Danvers, I'm not going to kill you." I muse.

Carol blinks at me a few times in confusion (or to just get the salty ocean water out) and I continue, stepping closer to her as both my hands light up with Chi.

"No, I'm going to do… _worse_."

And with that, my hands close around the sides of her head as I _pull_. I have had centuries (I think) to practise how to absorb trickles of energy from the Power Stone, both during my fights with Dormammu and that impossibly long amount of alone-time when he fucked off during that last loop. I _also_ had more practice with absorbing foreign energies into my own body through trial and error (... mostly error. Very _painful_ error). So now, I just did the same.

I ' _grasped_ ' that power that was steadily flowing back into Carol and literally dragged it into myself instead. The process was far from gentle, as indicated from Captain Marvel's agonized screams and even my own grunts of effort. The foreign energy seeped through my skin, saturated my flesh, settled in my bones and roared through my veins, even as I kept on pulling more and more of it into me, shunting it from my hands to the rest of my body.

But the energy was just that: foreign. It alternatively felt like liquid fire being injected into my muscles or someone shoving their fingers into my veins. It was uncomfortable to say the least, but since I've actually experiences such tortures (and died to several as well) I could force myself through it. Even as my skin felt taut across my body, as if I was ballooning from the inside out, I didn't stop forcing that immensely powerful energy from Captain Marvel into my own body.

It was the work of _minutes_ , as I labored on and Carol didn't stop screaming once, clutching at her chest as she could probably feel a painful emptying out of her metaphysical self. I kept leeching her power, even as the influx of energy trickled down from a massive waterfall to a trickling stream. I kept mercilessly pulling it away from her and into me, even as it dried up completely. I kept on siphoning the last vestiges of Captain Marvel's powers even as she started to feel hollow from the inside.

The sun was nearly dipping beneath the horizon when I finally shut off my power, Carol falling limply back to the sands with small gasp, her voice hoarse by now. I barely pay any attention to her though, my focus completely turned inwards to my own body. I can feel the massive amounts of energy surging through me, and my body reacting to it as well. It feels like I ate a nuke or something, and I fall to a knee with a pained groan.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Carol try to work herself to her trembling elbows, looking at me wide-eyed, displaying true fear for the first time. I barely pay any further attention to her though, a wave of nausea and muscle cramps rolling through my body, making me tense up and close my eyes.

I know from personal experience how devastating it can be if you absorb too much energy, or energy that's too powerful and volatile. In this case, it's both, and I'm trying my hardest to calm down so I can work on _not_ blowing up in a shower of visceral blood and gore.

Thankfully, functional immortality inside of a time loop means you're fine experimenting with new powers, even if they repeatedly kill you and those tests _do_ tend to give the most interesting insights (mostly along the line of 'OH MY FUCKING GOD THIS HURTS, WHY GOD, WHYYYY?!'). So, with a frustrated groan, I will myself to my feet, lifing my face to the heavens and roaring my defiance. I activate my full-body Chi, my entire form glowing a deep gold, equalling the last bright embers of the setting sun, my surroundings a burning red from the Extremis within me. As I supercharge every last cell of my body with energy, I actively concentrate on my field that I gained from Jessica's DNA, calling on it and trying to power it as far as it goes.

For a brief moment, I stay there, a delicate balance between my body, my powerfield and the absorbed energy within me. Then I take a _deep_ breath and something _shifts_ with a slight popping feeling. Like those pains you sometimes get in your torso, and they just… _disappear_ when you take a deep enough breath. The bloated, strained feeling from before is gone, as if the energy finally found a little place within me to settle into. Like with my Chi and Extremis, its power is buzzing in every part of my body, charging and buzzing around in every cell, every nerve, every organ and muscle group. But it's also… _merged_ , with my previous force-field, indicating that I was on the right path regarding how Captain Marvel's powers worked and how she could have gotten them.

Opening my eyes, I look down at myself. I realize that I've begun floating, hovering above the ground about two feet or so. My entire form is still a molten gold, highlighted by the orange streaks of Extremis running through my veins. But my powerfield is actually visible now, a corona of light, just like how it was on Captain Marvel's powered up form, though with some slight differences. Mine was… thicker, and closer to my skin, seemingly floating out of it into the field instead of merely surrounding me. The flame pattern was also more pronounced than it had been with her, though its motions noticeable slower. It started a deep gold closer to my skin, but flared out into the purest white I had ever seen, more brilliant than even the freshest snow.

If I had to guess, _that_ was connected to the Light-Dimension somehow, but I'd need further testing to be sure.

Giving myself a final once-over, I can't help but grin as I recall my friend's earlier words.

"Phineas?"

"Yes Michael?" his voice comes, soft and awed.

" _Now_ I'm a Super Saiyan."

It takes a few seconds before he responds, but when he does, his excitement is almost tangible.

"That's _so_ cool! Hey, does that make Sterns Krillin? Oooh, can I be Mr. Popo?!"

* * *

 **AN:** So, not entirely happy with this. I felt that the original version of this chapter (before I lost almost everything due to a save error or something) was better, but I also don't think endlessly shaving away at every line is going to do anyone any good, so I'll leave it at this. Feel free to give me your feedback, maybe I'll find a way to do this chapter better. Though, allow me to head off some of the questions some of you will probably have:

Carol drowning. I realized only when I was nearly finished with the chapter that Captain Carol probably doesn't need to breath, given that she seems just fine in outer space. Couple that with how she has aged, and I think her powers keep her body in a stasis of some sorts, meaning she probably doesn't need to eat or drink either. _But_ , I also didn't want to go back and delete the entire last part of the chapter, so I kept it in. I'm justifying it as her needing her powered-up form to acquire super not-drowning skills, and Michael stomping down on her makes it short out. Whenever it does, water rushes in, over and over. Let me know if you have a better justification, maybe I can work it in.

Michael's armor/weapon and him drawing on the power stone. Michael's armor is _almost_ nano-technology. Almost, but not yet. What he does is have his armor disassemble itself, like the Iron Man armor whenever Tony gets out of it, and then shrink it down using Cross Tech. It has been established that, even shrunk, the Stones don't lose any of their effectiveness. In this case, Michael's armature are hidden on his person much like Peter Quill's helmet. I wanted to work that into the story, but didn't find a way to make it fit. Maybe when I get around to rewriting it, I'll get around to that.

Other than that, let me know what you thought. Many of you were quite vocal with how Michael should deal with Captain Carol and a lot of your ideas were pretty cool. I didn't manage to include them all, but yeah, let me know if you thought the chain of events was believable and if the fight scene was satisfactory. To those who wanted to see Captain Carol get stomped, I hope I delivered that, and to those who wanted more depth to her character instead of me merely bashing her, I hope I managed to gave you that as well. I know I can't make everybody happy, but if I can have the majority of you like it, and the rest of you tolerate it, then that's all good in my book. So yeah, sorry for the delay, enjoy the chapter (or don't, your choice after all) and cheers!

 **Fun Fact:** Sean Gunn, the brother of the GotG Director James Gunn plays both Kraglin, Yondu's second in command, but also does all of the motion-capture for Raccoon. Meaning that in the scenes where Rocket Raccoon, Yondu and Kraglin are racing towards Ego, technically it's Michael Rooker (Yondu) playing against two Gunn's. Three if you count the Gunn behind the camera.

 _As always, a huge thanks to my Patrons, I truly do appreciate and love you all! IronmanMarkIV, Shaman95, justlovereadin, Daniel Dorfman, DoctorTortoise, DavidJP, CJ Elsen, Sam, Carn Krauss, ReaperScythe, Thordur hrafn, CrankyD, Kamalpreet Singh, Devon, Kyle Reese, Kahn, RLStrained, Vu, Roman Krupkin! Thanks again for your support!_


	53. Consequences

_**Consequences**_

* * *

 **May 9** **th** **, 14:45 2013.**

Controlling this new energy turned out to be more difficult than I had originally anticipated when I made the impulsive decision to steal it from Captain Marvel. It was eager to jump out, roaring in excitement almost as it enveloped me in a corona of power, but it wasn't willing to go dormant _at all_. It felt like whenever I siphoned power off the Power Stone, but more internalized and _connected_ to other parts of me. It tied in to my body, my soul and even what I thought was the Light Dimension. My best guess was that either this MCU version of Captain Marvel was empowered by the Light Dimension somehow (though that seemed highly unlikely and I hadn't picked up anything like that from her memories) or it supercharged me to the point that _my_ connection to the Light Dimension was widened far enough to let its energy leak through.

It made sense for the Light Dimension to start featuring more heavily in my powerset. After all, you can hardly call yourself a respectable Lord of Light, having defeated a Lord of Hell and having bested Dormammu himself, without actually… well, _using_ the Light energy in the first place.

Something to discuss with the Ancient One or Kaecillius, I suppose. Wait, Cloak and Dagger are a thing in the MCU, right? I distinctly remember there being talk about those two getting a show of their own. Annoyingly enough, that was everything I knew about it: no names, unfortunately. It would make tracking down Dagger more difficult, but not insurmountable. After all, Phineas had eyes almost everywhere and I _do_ know that Roxxon was involved _somehow_.

Just had to make sure I didn't disintegrate Cloak on the spot when I meet him, on account of him being infused with Dark Dimension energies.

A problem for future-Michael. Current-Michael has enough going on as it is, thankyouverymuch.

It takes me several minutes of deep medative posing and breathing exercises before my supermode finally fades, leaving me back in my non-glowing form on Namibia's golden beaches, wearing my destroyed suit and my single remaining shoe. It was… surprisingly uncomfortable. Not exactly painful (though that may be solely because of my insane pain threshold after being eaten alive so many times), but there was this almost _pinching_ sensation throughout my body. A certain strain that ran through every cell, muscle and organ, yet one that I couldn't exactly pin down.

Something that I'd need to look into at a later date.

All is silent as I slowly open my eyes, watching the sun fall behind the wavering horizon as the last golden-red rays of dusk make way for the cool blanket of the night. Well, not _all_ is silent.

Rising to my full height, I glance towards my left, where a quiet, hitched sobbing can be heard. Carol Danvers, barely clothed in burnt rags, is still sitting in the same place where I let her fall. Her eyes are wide and tears are steadily streaming down her cheeks as she's holding up her shaking hands, staring at them with an uncomprehending gaze.

Her breathing is ragged and whenever she shifts her position, it hitches, a soft gasp escaping her. Whenever it does, her unseeing eyes widen slightly as if in surprise. How long has it been, since she last felt pain, or exhaustion, or even just the weight of her own body pressing down on her, keeping her grounded like all mortals? Sensations, pains and weaknesses that she has nearly completely forgotten over these past few decades make themselves known with a vengeance once more as the course sand scrapes against her burnt and now tender skin.

For a moment, I merely stare at the shell-shocked woman as she slowly clenches and unclenches her hands, before I start moving towards her. As I walk, I twist my wrist, an emerald glow bursting from the amulet at my throat. Which each step that I take, my clothing is more and more restored, until I hide the Time Stone away again, standing fully clothed in front of the beaten down Carol.

It takes her a few moments before she even realizes I'm there, her blurry eyes travelling slowly upwards until we lock gazes. I have to tone down my telepathy as I'm hit with the full force of… _nothingness_. Dull, overwhelming void is radiating from the woman sitting in front of me, the weight of the world on her now far too weak shoulders almost crushing her.

"What… did you _do_? What did you _do_ to me?" she whispers in a hoarse voice, a disquieted and almost disbelieving tone in her words.

The realization that she's human… that she's _mortal_ once more is slowly settling in, her mind rebelling against the very concept with the last vestiges of will that she has. Because if she's just a human, she cannot be the hero Captain Marvel. And if she cannot be _the_ hero… then what is she? Her mind is strong, I cannot deny that (having gone through what she endured and ending up with a _hero_ complex of all things instead of turning into a psycho is a testament to her willpower), but it is severely limited and has great difficulty adapting to change.

As the terrible reality of her new situation tries to penetrate her mind, weighing on her like a crumbling mountain, her mind refuses to accept it. To accept it is to deny everything that makes her _her_ , to throw away every single hold she has on her sanity, to discard every coping mechanism that she has. She can't even think of alternatives, of becoming something else now that she's just human anymore.

Carol Danvers _is_ Captain Marvel. She has nothing else to fall back on, or to aspire towards. It is that… or _nothing_.

Death.

Despite how much of a bitch she was when she tried to arrest me (and even despite the fact that she wanted to arrest me in the first place), I cannot help but feel… pity. She's hardly the most likeable person, even before the Kree turned her into some sort of weapon, having always been confrontational and uptight. But to be fair to her, all she ever wanted to be was a hero. It wasn't exactly her fault that her path ended up directly opposing my own.

Knowing that nothing I say will help her right now (after all, as the reason for her currently crumbling worldview, I'm still firmly stuck in the traditional evil villain role that she saw me in before this fight), I merely stay silent in response to her haunted question.

Instead, with a flick of my wrist, I open a portal back towards Avengers Tower. Carol is so out of it that she doesn't even react to the glowing circle springing into existence a few feet away from her. She doesn't even react when I reach down and haul her to her feet by her arm, other than a slight hiss when my rough skin brushes against her burnt one.

Seeing the brief, though muted, flash of pain, I slightly adjust my grip, holding her up more with my telekinesis rather than with my hand, the invisible grip causing her less discomfort. Now then, to finish my message that this fight was actually meant to be when I first punched Captain Marvel across the Atlantic Ocean. I step through, half guiding, half towing Carol along, letting the portal snap shut behind me. I'm greeted with the combined stares of all the Avengers and their respective people, such as Betty and Pepper, as well as several big-wigs and high ranking agents from SHIELD. The other guests have left, presumably high-tailing it out right after Carol and I went into our respective Super Saiyan modes.

Smart move.

The Avengers all look wary, but not overtly hostile, while Fury slumps minutely when he sees me lead a defeated Carol through the portal (the movement small enough I doubt more than a handful of people actually managed to spot it). Steve and Peggy are a bit off to the side, close to the broken full-length mirrors that line one side of this floor in the tower, apparently in a quiet heated discussion, judging from their heated expression and how close they're standing together with their backs towards the others.

They turn when I enter though, and much like Fury, Peggy gains a downcast expression when she sees the defeated Carol stumbling at my side, the realization of their _utter_ failure quickly settling in. There's a reason why I only used the Time Stone on myself and not on the battered Captain, and it wasn't just to be spiteful. Seeing their expressions, I know that I succeeded in my goal: showing them _exactly_ how overpowered I am compared to their heaviest hitter and last resort.

Seeing me in my pristine suit, without even a tear in my immaculate jacket or dust on my shining shoes, contrasted to the burnt rags that cling to Carol's battered body, sends a more impactful message of _power_ than anything I could say right now.

Without ceremony, I let go of Captain Marvel, who sags to her knees with a gasp, unused to the weakness in her legs as gravity once more reminds her of its existence for the first time in thirty odd years, the harsh surface of the floor scraping against her sunburnt knees a brutal reminder of her renewed mortality.

For a moment, nobody moves or says anything, before Peggy resolutely steps towards the slumped form of Carol, kneeling down and gently slinging one of the woman's arms over her shoulder, pushing her to her feet and allowing her to lean on her strong frame.

Her voice is soft, but in the silence of the room, her words are clearly heard by all.

"Come on. Let's get you home dear. You did well. It's time to rest now, alright?"

Peggy keeps whispering soft and reassuring words into the battered younger woman's ear (I realize with a start that, despite looking roughly my age, the two of them combined are almost 140 years old) as she leads the former galactic superhero away and to the elevators. Steve watches for a moment, before quickly striding towards Tony, saying in a low tone under his breath that he will watch over both Peggy and Carol (he probably doesn't realize I can hear him just fine), before returning to Avengers Tower. Stark merely keeps his gaze on the retreating form of the two women, before he glances at Steve from the corner of his eye, giving the supersoldier a nod.

And then Steve is gone as well, striding quickly to catch up to Peggy and Carol before they even reach the elevators.

Silence returns and this time Fury is the one who wants to break it, schooling his expression into a neutral mask, though his frustration radiates from every pore as he looks at me and realizes the mess that he has made. On the order of superiors, to be sure, and things hardly went down the way _he_ wanted to deal with things, but at the heart of the matter, he didn't disagree with _why_ things went the way they did.

He trusts me to defend humanity from outside threats. But he feels that it is necessary to make sure that at least _someone_ defends humanity from _me_.

Considering I'll effectively become the Emperor of Mankind after my ascension, I can see why a person like him would feel that way. Doesn't make it any less annoying though. So before he can talk, I decide to hammer my message home a little further with another display of my power (and therefore, _his_ futility).

Raising a hand I shut him up before he can even speak. Raising my other hand as well, I once more unlock the Amulet of Agamotto. As its emerald glow shines over the destroyed room, runic arrays rotate into existence around my palms and wrists and with a few twists, a green light starts to suffuse the floor, walls, windows and ceiling. Another twist and it's like watching a movie in reverse: the cracks fuse shut leaving an unblemished floor, while splinters of glass dance in a choreographed masterpiece only to land back into a smooth surface as the windows repair themselves.

Then I take it one step further, and Fury lets out a shocked gasp as flickers of green light suddenly burst from underneath his eyepatch. He stumbles back, hands coming up and scrabbling at the piece of cloth and leather in surprise and just the _slightest_ traces of beginning panic. But he's too late: the various green glows throughout the room die away as I lower my hands and the golden panels of the Amulet slide closed to cover the Time Stone once more.

And when Fury finally tears the eyepatch off his face, snapping the band, I can hear Tony and Barton share a quiet "damn". And it's not hard to understand why, as Fury raises his head, his expression one of surprise and shock as _two_ hale and healthy eyes glance across the room and its occupants, before resting on me again.

I'm honestly surprised by how far I had to turn back time to restore his eye. Apparently, Fury lost it when he was still quite young. I'm far _more_ surprised however, when I see that thinking about the loss of his eye makes Fury think of a… ginger cat?

… the hell?

"You…" Fury says slowly, for once completely at a loss for words as he looks at the world with proper depth perception again for the first time in well over twenty odd years.

Sure, everybody _knew_ that I could turn back time. But that had been on the heels of a massive invasion by two mystical forces. I had also been a hundred feet tall at the time, standing on the head of my gargantuan Leviathan and glowing with power. It had also taken a _lot_ out of me at the time.

It's an entirely different experience watching something like that from drone footage or whatever, as opposed to actually… _experiencing_ it yourself. Especially with a wound you've been carrying for so long, it's basically become a part of who you are and how you see yourself.

Seems I'm on a roll today when it comes to shattering people's view of themselves, huh?

"Figured this was easier than just waiting for you to send me a check, Stark. 'Sides, I already know you're gonna charge _way_ too much. Probably claim that the floor paneling is made from dalbergia wood and the windows from quartz or something." I say with a grin, getting a shrug in return, the inventor trying to play things cool.

"No, of course not. I wouldn't stoop to using such… _plebian_ furnishings. I'm a man of _taste_ , after all."

"Clearly." I respond dryly, before focusing back on Fury, my expression darkening and my gaze serious.

While both he and I know I've got him and pretty much all of SHIELD over a barrel right now, I resist the urge to start making my demands and heaping up the punishment. Not that I don't intend to do that eventually, but the Avengers are watching. Right now, I can count on at least a modicum of sympathy from their side, since I was clearly the one harassed in this situation and I wasn't the one who escalated things. If I start cackling and making demands like some victorious evil overlord, that image is shattered and their tentative support might evaporate on the spot.

Still, I _can_ already start laying the groundwork for my later demands.

"This _isn't_ over, Fury. There are about a dozen things that went down here that my lawyer could use to _crucify_ you and everyone that was even remotely involved in this little scheme, staring with Miss Danver's little boast that she'd ' _beat_ the truth out of me'. And that's just the stuff that I can think off from the top of my head. Like you said, stuff for the courts, so if you want to push this, I'll happily meet you there. Feel free to send me a subpoena whenever you feel like it. 'Cause you and I _both_ know you've got no-one left who's actually capable of _dragging_ my ass to court now. Collateral Damage Barbie just received the worst asskicking of her life since she put on a suit and Blonsky is currently stomping demons in Hell. You want me obeying the law of the people? Fine, as long as you do the same."

For a moment, we lock gazes (with him still thrown off by the fact that he suddenly has _two_ eyes to stare with, the snapped eyepatch feeling odd in his clenched fist) before he grits his teeth and leans back on his heels, letting out a frustrated huff.

"The fuck do you want McCole? I know you. Or enough to know you'll be looking to squeeze this whole shitstorm for your own benefit. So, what the fuck do you want?"

"For now? Merely some peace and quiet. Like I said, you want me in court, send me a subpoena. Otherwise, I'm fine with our previous arrangement, where you stay the hell off my back and spread the word among the rest of the alphabet soup of agencies, even those I'm not supposed to know about, that they do the same. _For now_. We'll discuss further arrangements at a later date, when everyone's had some time to cool off and _an Avenger hasn't just been buried_."

Fury can't help but wince slightly at my harsh words, but he still stands his ground, inclining his head slightly.

"And if we refuse?"

It's not that _he_ doesn't intend to comply to my current demands, in fact agreeing that _now_ is hardly the time to sit down at the negotiating table. But as the leader of SHIELD for these past few decades and as one of the few people aware of Hydra's infiltration into the agency and the government, he's acutely aware of the fact that there are plenty of people left who won't share his views on this matter. So he feels he _has_ to ask, if only so he can spread the message to those unfortunates who are sorely lacking in the 'common sense' and 'survival instincts' department.

At his words I stalk closer to him with long strides, my heavy footfalls sounding like hammer strikes in the now silent room as everyone holds their breath, waiting for my answer. I tower over the tall Director, and my eyes turn a glowing molten orange as my Extremis lights up.

" _Nicholas_. I have _the_ best lawyer in the world, backed by some of _the_ smartest people on the planet and a PR machine that even frightens _me_ sometimes in their zealousness and ruthlessness. On top of that, I saved humanity _twice_ : the people love me. And you just tried to arrest me on the day of Natasha's _funeral_. Push me on this, and I'll make absolutely _sure_ you and every single flunky in SHIELD will be relegated to the most insignificant part of the most remote ass-end of Antarctica during its coldest months in the shittiest equipment that will just _barely_ keep you from freezing your nuts off. The _only_ thing you'll be monitoring is the consistency of penguin droppings, by _hand_ since you won't get _any_ toys or equipment other than what's _absolutely_ essential in the preparation of Spam, literally the only supply you'll be sent every few months or so. And _that_ … would be step _one_. My advice? _Don't_ _refuse_."

Our gazes remain locked for a few moments longer, before the Director gives me a disgruntled nod. Without a word, he turns on his heel, his longcoat whirling around his legs as he quickly strides towards the elevators as well, the remaining SHIELD personnel (many of them looking distinctly worried) quickly following on his heels. As their group troupes out, I can hear metallic footsteps approaching me from behind, and I turn to see Iron Man (in full regalia but with the helmet folded away) stepping closer to me. Tony searches for the right words for a moment, before settling on forced nonchalance (the forced part only recognizable due to the additional information my telepathy is feeding me, his expression otherwise flawless and it would likely have fooled me).

"Nothing but _Spam_? Seriously? That's cruel, even by my standards."

"I had to make a point didn't I? I was also thinking about giving them nothing but Vegemite to season the Spam with, but if I did that I truly would be as evil as SHIELD apparently thinks I am." I reply with a small smile, matching his sly tone.

He grins, before his expression turns more serious.

"And? Are you? As evil as they think?"

I raise my eyebrow at him, forcibly relaxing my stance even as I slightly turn so that I can keep a better eye on the other Avengers. For now they're somewhat huddled together on the other side of the room, but I can still spot the furtive glances they keep shooting my way and how they made sure to put the more vulnerable people at the back, furthest away from me.

Still wary then, but not openly hostile. Not _yet_ at least.

Turning back to Tony, I put on a mellow expression as I give a disarming smile, dimming the glow of my eyes.

"What do _you_ think?"

"I think you've got blood on your hands. Your ledger isn't _nearly_ as pristine as you want people to think it is." Tony immediately replies, his tone serious.

I blink in response to his firm answer, somewhat surprised at the speed with which he responded, my curiosity peaked.

"And?"

Now Tony is silent for a few moments, clearly mulling over what to say, before he slumps slightly (which is rather difficult to spot, on account of him being entombed in his armor).

"And I think that goes for all of us as well. We _choose_ to be on the side of the angels, but we hardly are angels ourselves. Well, with the exception of Cap, _obviously_ , and Thor. Thor's already a God, so he doesn't count and Steve can give _saints_ a guilt-trip about not being morally upstanding enough." He says with a small (and just ever so slightly bitter) chuckle.

I wisely decide to keep quiet on that front. This is hardly the time to open _that_ particular can of worms.

"Thing is, we _chose_ the right side, for whatever reason. Wanted to _help_ , instead of dominate. Build, instead of destroy. But with _you_ … you've helped humanity in more ways than any of us. You've build something amazing. I won't forget _how_ you managed to do that, not ever, but I'll give you that much at least. Figure you deserve that after throwing yourself through _two_ portals to save Earth. The issue here… is _why_? What's your endgame, Michael?"

I clasp my hands behind my back as I ponder how to answer his question. I doubt he and the other Avengers will accept 'global domination that will last for millennia' as an acceptable answer. I quickly decide on my tried and true method of mixing in the truth with the lies.

"The reason I do what I do… why I became what I am today… was fear. Fear of dying, of being forgotten as some insignificant footnote, yet another nameless casualty in the battle between the forces of good and evil. I was… ruthless, then. I had to be. Time was of the essence, I had to discard the weaknesses of the human body as fast as possible, or I risked dying before I could even get truly started on realizing my plan. Perhaps to even something as horribly mundane as tripping and falling down a flight of stairs, or getting hit by traffic. But along that journey, as such worries became more and more obsolete and I allowed more and more people into my life… that goal changed. I was living proof that it could be done. That humans could be _more_. That death itself could be pushed back! So if _I_ could do it… then why not everyone? Seven billion people is a _lot_ to enhance and help, but _now_? Now I've got all the time in the world, even if I have to save them one at a time. People like Fury's bosses fear me because of that. If I am successful, it will be the birth of a new world: as the current rulers of _this_ world, they fear such a destruction of the status quo, the replacement of everything they know and control. Since I refuse to let myself be shackled by the fear of such lesser men, there can be nothing but conflict between us. Conflict that I am willing to resolve non-violently, but as I have demonstrated today, should they push me, I will _not_ hesitate in pushing back. So allow me to pose a question of my own, Stark: what will the Avengers do? Will they look towards the future and a new world for a new, improved humanity, or will they push back out of fear for change?"

Tony is silent for a moment, glancing at the gathered Avengers as he thinks carefully on his answer. He exchanges glances with a few of them. Some, like Rhodey, look more uncomfortable and wary than the others (as expected from the military man), but others, like Hawkeye, clearly have a more positive outlook on me. Still, they all seem to be along a spectrum leaning towards non-violent co-existence.

It's when he locks eyes with Pepper that Tony comes to his decision.

"The Avengers… will watch over this New World of yours. And, if it turns out to be necessary… Avenge the old one."

He extends his gauntleted hand towards me, his expression serious. My grin is massive as my hand engulfs his own and we shake on it.

"I'm counting on it, Stark."

* * *

After making the tentative deal with the Avengers, I quickly summoned a portal and made my way back towards Othrys. Phineas was already rambling in my ear over the various procedures he would forward to Hogarth, along with all the footage from when Carol first confronted me, so they could start brainstorming ways to take down SHIELD. I told him to knock himself out in preparing everything he thought necessary, but to hold off on actually executing it, though I gave him the go ahead to upload the propaganda we created about Captain Marvel and the footage from my armor during my final loop in the Dark Dimension, giving him free reign since I wanted nothing to do with that particular video (I already had enough trouble sleeping as it is).

As much as SHIELD in general and Carter's pruning especially had disappointed me (I had hoped that Hydra's agents would've been all taken out by now), they still had their uses. Besides, it would be easier to take its remains and restructure it into something better than to erase them completely and build something completely from the ground up.

I probably would've decided to go that route if I wanted to control SHIELD's successor, since doing it that way allowed far greater freedom and possibilities in tuning it _just_ right for whatever purposes I had. However, running a spy agency was hardly something that I wanted to sink massive amounts of time in, so for outsourcing that problem to someone I trusted, simply restructuring what was already there would be far easier.

Besides, with Phineas already in most of their systems, gaining control over SHIELD's successor would be a breeze anyways.

As my AI friend acquiesced and sent the (quite massive) datapackage to Hogarth's office, as well as a subroutine of himself so he could keep working on it with her using the ultimate form of multitasking, while uploading the other footage to the internet, I gave new instruction to the main partition that was still inhabiting Othrys' systems.

"Tell Dormer and Gill I'm giving them a deadline. I want their Atmospheric Machine ready by the end of this week. If they finish it in time, they get to accompany Hansen to Namibia to help her there, a proving ground for their terraforming department. If they fail, then their Forge privileges are retracted and they'll get Susan-cleaning duties. It's time they start proving their worth: I hired them for a reason after all, and not just to hear them bitch and moan about how the Think Tank has better stuff than them."

"Just a couple of days to finish their most ambitious project, with punishment if they fail? Aren't you being a little hard to these kids Michael? They don't even have the Brain Booster."

"If they succeed, then I know I have made a good investment in poaching them from the SHIELD Academy and I'll consider setting up more dedicated recruitment centers for the bright young minds of the next generation. If they fail… just see it as a valuable life lesson."

"I very much doubt they'll see it that way."

"And I very much don't care if they don't. It's all a part of growing up, Phineas. What did you do when you were a kid and given a tough assignment? Did you step up or give in?" I ask rethorically, not really expecting Phineas to answer.

"Well, one time Mr. Thorne made me stay after PE to run additional laps because according to him I was a 'fat lump of lard that needed to be whipped into shape before I became immobile because of my own weight'. Thorne was a retired drill sergeant and it showed. I wasn't allowed to go home until I ran the complete number of laps."

"… Damn. Sorry Phineas, I didn't know. What did you do?"

"Ran. Puked. Ran some more. And then the next night I dismantled his car down to its individual parts and stripped the wiring. Sold off the parts, used the money and the wiring to build a small, remote controlled robot and let it loose inside his house. Absolutely trashed the place and it was too fast for him to catch, even when he tried to smash it with a baseball bat. When he moved to take his gun, I had the robot high-tail it out of there. He tried to report it to the police, but all they saw was a raving man with a baseball bat, standing inside a trashed house with a stripped car chassis on cinderblocks on the street, ranting about little _robots_. They managed to track the sold parts to a chop shop. They didn't even bother investigating the robot-angle. So, the next week, the school gave an announcement that Mr. Thorne had sadly chosen to retire. Nobody but me knew that he was court-mandated to see a psychiatrist and his "violent tendencies" and "suspected drug habits" meant that he wasn't allowed within a hundred yards of a school anymore."

I halt in my steps in one of Othrys' hallways as I glance at the LED-lights running across the smooth ceiling.

"… _Damn_."

"He had it coming." Phineas mutters and even though he's currently a disembodied voice, I can _still_ almost feel him blushing.

"… Right then. No Susan-cleaning duties. The revoking of Forge privileges stays though. Those kids either need to step up, or shut up."

"Alright Michael, I'll let them know! Anything else?" Phineas answers in a bright tone, the more somber mood from before evaporating as if it was never there.

"Nothing serious right now, no. For now, I just want to quickly check up on everyone, see where everybody's at in their projects. Radcliffe, Sterns and Selvig are still in their workshop in the Hangar, working on Oliver's replacement engine?"

"Yup! I'll let them know you're coming."

"Thanks. Tell Hansen to start preparing for the Namibia project as well. I want that desert turned into an oasis, and I know that she has already done research on various cacti and desert flora. She should be able to introduce several new, more efficient and hardier species in the region without destroying the existing ecosystem. The fishing industry there can easily be advanced and made more profitable by better preservation and transportation methods. That should be enough of a 'sorry' for the Namibian government for making their country slightly smaller."

"Why not use the Time Stone? Surely, if it fixed New York City, then it can also restore a little bit of beach as well?"

"First, don't call me Shirley. Second, it's all about the message. I restored New York because I wanted to undo the damage invaders had managed to do. Whenever people _now_ look at New York, they'll remember the ruins that it was before, and think of my power and be grateful for it. But my fight in Namibia was a display of _my_ power, the damage done there a physical reminder of it. I'm not erasing that, but leaving it as is, without doing anything for the country will be seen as callous. By helping the country, I'll be seen as generous while also keeping the reminder of what happens to those who challenge me."

"… things are never just as they seem with you, are they Michael? There's always something underneath the underneath. Some secondary purpose."

Again I slowly come to a halt as I glance at the ceiling, contemplating Phineas' words and the tone in which they were said.

"You disapprove?"

"No. I understand why it's necessary. Just… wish it wasn't. Maybe someday it won't be. Maybe someday we'll build cool shit, just because it'd be _fun_ to build it, not because if we _don't_ , the universe is in danger. You know, give back to the people and stuff like that?"

I smile as I continue walking.

"Yeah. That sounds nice, Phineas. And once I've achieved my goal, once Thanos is dead and every asshole in the universe _and_ the multi-verse knows _not_ to fuck with Earth, we'll do nothing but build 'cool shit' as much as we like to. Promise."

"I'll hold you to that." My friend replies with a smile in his voice.

"Right! Any news on Burstein's progress now that he has access to Quill's DNA?"

"Not much, to be honest. According to him, the way the human DNA is interwoven with the Celestial DNA is so sophisticated and intertwined, it's still a pain in the ass to completely isolate the Celestial parts. He said it's both a work of art, and most likely not entirely natural."

I wouldn't be surprised if that turned out to be the case. Ego did specifically travel from planet to planet to breed sons and daughters. That meant that his genetic material had to be accepted and integrated by a widely varying host of alien DNA. Either Celestial DNA is simply that malleable and universal, or Ego figured out how to tweak it so that the mother's species will accept it and produce viable offspring.

"Right, just send me an alert if he gets his big breakthrough. In the meantime, tell him to clear some room in his schedule, preferably by conferring with Sterns. My latest… power-up doesn't exactly sit right with me. I'd like a second opinion and as our leading geneticists, they're the ones I trust the most with this type of stuff."

"Michael, are you alright? You're not going to explode are you?!" Phineas asks, worry spiking his tone, but I wave it off.

"Don't worry, it's not _that_ bad. I'm fine, the discomfort is manageable. I just want to double-check and make sure that it doesn't turn into a problem down the line. Exploding is hardly on my to-do list, after all." I say in a casual tone, keeping my worry hidden.

None of my other power ups kept hurting like this. Sure, they were agony _while_ I was getting them, and I was usually left a mess shortly afterwards. But this felt different. _Deeper_ somehow. The massive amounts of energy and power had settled in my mind, body and soul. Settled, but hardly passive. It was strong and volatile and didn't like being pushed back inwards into its current dormant state. I felt like a glass that was already filled to the brim, but drops kept falling in, raising the water-level.

It was a highly uncomfortable feeling.

"If you say so." Phineas answers with a clearly forced casual tone and I pretend not to notice as he immediately starts scanning my body.

It feels… nice, being worried over. With the major things inside Othrys taken care off, I focus my attention outwards as I step into the elevator, calling for the sublevel housing my Hangar.

"Cho and Hall?"

"Both are on their way to Othrys. I offered the two of them to have someone portal them over, but they both declined. Hall doesn't seem to trust magic and Cho wanted some time with her family before she left. Hall is scheduled to arrive in two days, Cho in four."

I huffed in irritation. As someone who had gotten used to travelling across the entire world in mere minutes with nothing more than a flick of my wrist, I had become disconnected with how much time travelling still cost most ordinary humans. Their refusal of my portals was annoying since I wanted them here _now_ and not in a couple of _days_ , but it wasn't a major problem. There was still time before the Convergence and I had to wait for Sterns, Radcliffe and Selvig to finish their replacement engine first before I could make the necessary trip for the final Steps of my Omnipotence Program.

Putting the two scientists out of my mind for now, I turn my focus to my other forces outside of Othrys.

"Do we have word of the Hysminai's progress?"

"We located the _Iliad_ cruising roughly in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Two of the Hysminai are approaching as we speak. Since it's staffed by sorta-friendlies, Harper decided that this was the delicate, stealthy kind of spec ops and went with them. Make sure they don't go psycho and murderize every single living thing on board. They are expected to breach the _Iliad_ within sixteen hours. We're unsure of how long it'll take them to reach the Monolith unseen, set the charges and then get the he-… get out of there ASAP. Should be fine though."

Ignoring Phineas' slight pause (due to having his drone army in the thick of the fighting during the entirety of Hell Week and possessing an impeccable memory, I'm not surprised the harrowing experience left its mark on my friend as well, like it has done on so many others), I continue my questioning, approaching the Hangar as I do.

"And the other thing?"

"The remaining Hysminai just put boots on the ground in Herefordshire. They should reach the facility there in a few hours. They have orders to kill everyone inside and then contact us. Harper figured that it was easier and faster if you just open a portal to them and grab all the loot instead of having them carry all the stuff back across the Atlantic Ocean."

"Hmm, agreed. Send me a notice when they reach the facility. I want to keep an eye on them, make sure they don't go overboard. Some of the other stuff there might be both useful _and_ delicate."

"Sure thing!"

While I knew about most of Hydra's locations due to my meta-knowledge, I was a bit vague on the details, mostly regarding where the hell their various safehouses and goodies were actually located. As luck would have it though, I just so happen to have one of the major leaders sitting in my dungeons and with a woefully unprepared mind against the might of the Mind Stone. Everything that Whitehall knew about Hydra's various projects, I now knew as well and much of that I had passed on to Harper and my Hysminai.

I was originally going to give parts to Carter for her own war against the parasites inside her agency, but she was too slow and too focused on other threats (namely _me_ ) for my tastes, so I'd just clean house myself instead. Hit hard and fast, and I'll leave the scraps for Carter to clean up. With their safehouses gone, the remnants of Hydra wouldn't have anywhere to fall back on, having no other choice than to dig in even further into their cover identities than they already were, effectively trapping them.

That really only left Pierce and Malick as the remaining bigshots of Hydra. There were others with authority, but that was usually contained to the few people under their command: they didn't have the authority and power needed to gather Hydra's scattered forces into one cohesive unit. And Pierce was sticking close to Fury and Carter, likely because he felt the noose tightening around him. He wasn't going to do anything overt for the moment, likely relying on the Winter Soldier for targeted strikes at whoever threatened him and his position and I was already putting plans into place to take away his little toy. As for Malick, my Hysminai approaching the _Iliad_ would make sure that his little scheme of returning Hive to Earth would be blown to pieces.

Literally.

While Whitehall's information had made such a fast response possible, I hardly needed him anymore now that things were falling into place and the Thompson's research on him (while certainly karmic justice) had been fine-tuned to the point that they hardly needed a live specimen to perfect it. While their research into granting people superpowers was fairly useless to me considering I had various easier ways of doing it that didn't require systematic torture of _children_ , their research into the mind combined with Whitehall's brainwashing technology meant that every single person in Othrys' employ was now able to completely pump a prisoner dry of information with nothing more than a push of a button.

Time for Whitehall to fulfill his final purpose for me.

"Where are Jiaying and Calvin Zabo?"

"They're off to Afterlife for the weekend with their daughter. Skye promised to return Monday and is still carrying her micro-transponder, so if she isn't back by then, we'll know which place we'll need to unleash some orbital bombardment on until they give her back. If she's back Monday, I can guarantee Calvin will come back as well: he sticks to her like glue. Can't speak for Jiaying though. She might, she might not. She's one of the hardest people to read I've seen in a long time."

"She will once Skye gives her this message: I give her Whitehall in return for an alliance. If she wants to discuss it further and collect Whitehall, she can visit me here and we can talk it over."

"Sure thing, Michael."

With those words I reach the enormous entrance to my cavernous Hangar. Vehicles of every shape, size and purpose are parked all over the spacious floor or on various platforms. And off to the side, three scientists are crowded around a massive cylindrical shape, overflowing with wires leading to impromptu workstations filled with laptops, equipment and technological read-outs. Various holograms fill their little corner of the room, displaying both advanced physics formula concerning the very fabric of the space-time continuum, lines and lines of programming code and a whole host of various blueprints.

And overlooking the utter chaos stands a Transformer.

If it hadn't become clear to me due to his attitude and speech patterns during Hell Week, then I only needed to look at the form Oliver had taken to realize where he had taken his inspiration from. I was basically looking at a gunmetal grey, sleek high-tech version of Optimus Prime, with a deep electric blue glow coming from every seam in his artificial body, though it was strongest in the center of his chest.

He looked on with interest as the scientists kept on working below until he spotted me. As he did, the two glowing circles in his "face" widened and lit up, and he immediately straightened as he sprung to attention, his hand coming up in a sharp salute, a clear ringing noise of colliding metal filling the Hangar as his hand met his temple.

" _Hello Hyperion, sir!_ "

I'm taken aback for a moment, feeling somewhat awkward as I give the fifteen foot tall mecha a small wave.

"… at ease?"

" _Very well, sir!_ "

Sterns, Radcliffe and Selvig had looked up when they heard Oliver's salute, the three of them focusing on me as they are either still elbows deep into the cylindrical machine (Selvig), on their backs underneath one of the tables with fists full of wires (Radcliffe), or scrolling through six holographic screens simultaneously while also fiddling with something in their hands (Sterns).

"Hey Michael! Come to check our progress?" Sterns is the one to ask, his mechanical arms retreating back under the wide cloak he has taken to wearing since our outing to Sakaar as he approaches me with a grin.

"Yup. Since some of my later projects require the completion of this one first, I just wanted to check in. Phineas filled me in of course, but I just wanted to see it for myself. It's been a while since we talked and I wanted to see how Oliver was doing."

" _I am doing very well sir! Thank you for asking!_ "

At the boomed words of the Transformer, I look up with a slight grin, addressing the sapient vehicle.

"Good to hear Oliver. I'm sorry for what Shuri managed to do to you. Darkhold-derived technology can be devastating, so I'm glad the Time Stone's effects were able to trump them, allowing Sterns to bring you back. That being said, are you _sure_ about this? We'll probably have to shut you down during the procedure and the vast difference in hardware might cause… difficulties that will require some adjusting to." I ask gently, but my worries are waved away by the enormous robot as he takes a wide stance, steel fists planted firmly in metallic hips.

" _Your worry is appreciated, but unnecessary, sir! Everything has been taken into consideration! Dr. Selvig will make sure my new power source mimics my current one as closely as possible, Dr. Radcliffe is carefully recording, analyzing and preserving my code and personality matrix so I can fall back on that if needed and my father is creating a data crystal that will house my consciousness during the procedure, in much the same way that Mr. Phineas' current bio-organic processor unit is preserved!_ "

I blink at the deluge of words boomed at me from several feet above me at quite a substantial volume, Oliver's enthusiasm and sheer size making for an… audible combination. Glancing from the corner of my eye at Sterns, I silently mouth 'father?' at him, but he just shrugs with a massive grin on his face.

Okay, if Sterns is cool with it, then I'll be cool with it as well.

"That's good to hear, Oliver. I know it can't be easy, going through with this. Without the Tesseract, you'll likely lose several abilities, such as your teleporting or the enhancement to your sword-"

" _While this is true, it is of no consequence to me, sir! While I will be saddened to no longer be able to calculate and move along non-linear trajectories to cut down the enemies of Freedom and Liberty with the Blade Of Righteousness, I will still be able to teach those foes a lesson simply using my Fists Of Justice!"_ Oliver booms, clearly working himself up if the increased glow from his body is anything to go by.

' _Oh wow. I actually heard the capital letters there.'_ I think to myself in amazement, staring up at the friendly mecha who has… taken a Super Sentai stance.

Clearly, Oliver is his father's son.

"Very well then, Oliver. On behalf of Othrys and myself, thanks. You're doing us a great service and I hope everything will go well." I say with a friendly smile, and Oliver's optics beam, not only with the light of an Infinity Stone, but sheer joy as well.

Giving him, Selvig and Radcliffe a nod, I tap Sterns on his shoulder and mention him to follow me. I walk back out of the Hangar, Sterns on my heels after he said his goodbye to his colleagues and mechanical offspring.

We walk in a comfortable silence for a bit, before I break it.

"Speaking of Darkhold-derived technology…"

I come to a halt, suddenly turning and grabbing Sterns by the shoulder as I lean in close, an urgent look on my face.

"Is it secret? Is it _safe_?"

We stand there for the briefest moment, before Sterns rolls his eyes with a chuckle, batting my hand away.

"Oh shut up, you Gandalf-wannabe."

"Gasp! Gasp I say! Of course I can pull of Gandalf! I'm literally wearing one of the most powerful magical artefacts in the world around my neck, _right now_!" I say with mock indignation as I fall into step besides him.

"I'm not saying that you can't be a powerful wizard. I'm just saying you can't be _Gandalf_ specifically. Or Dumbledore. Or Elminster. And so on. There is this quintessential thing they all share, and that marks the truly _great_ wizards from the merely good ones. Something that, sadly, you lack."

"What?! What is it? An air of mysticism? Shady origins that I don't reveal to my companions? Betting the fate on the world on those who's suitability for saving it is questionable at times? Indulging in odd habits? What is it?!"

At that, Sterns glances at me from the corner of his eye.

"Hair."

"… Touché."

Our laughter is joined by Phineas' disembodied voice, and when the silence returns, the air is filled with a sense of levity. Right until we've arrived at our destination, a small, unassuming room on one of the lower levels of Othrys. It simply looks like an ordinary storage room and there's nothing really in there other than some shelves and closets. It's just a normal, boring room of little significance, right until Sterns steps up close to the back wall, five of his mechanical arms shooting out and plunging in hidden sockets on various points in the smooth metallic surface. Simultaneously, he places his hand against a particular spot on the wall in front of him, while leaning slightly forwards for an ocular scan.

Three seconds, then there's a sudden (surprisingly cheerful) 'ping!' and the whole wall just… folds away, breaking into panels which slide in and over each other as they move towards the edges of the wall, leaving a sizeable hole in the middle, high and wide enough that I can pass through with ease. On the other side is a tiny barren concrete room, not much more than an alcove really, containing a single pedestal.

And on that pedestal, illuminated by a simple LED light in the unadorned ceiling, lies the Darkhold.

Given its subtle and insidious corrupting nature, I had made clear to my employees that this particular artefact was far too dangerous to study or handle. It would be kept in a secure lockbox in my Vaults and it would be safer for everyone if they just put it out of their minds entirely (some comparisons to Gollum and the One Ring and several _extremely_ graphic descriptions of what Genghis Khan had done in service of the book had made sure everyone agreed with the precaution).

The reason why I _didn't_ have it in my Vault, because there was a person in Othrys who had access to it, and if they were to be seduced by the Darkhold, then it could mean the end of Othrys and possibly the entire world.

Me.

It's why I had ordered Sterns to place the (literally) damned thing in a secure room that only he could access when he first presented the thing to me, taken off of Shuri's disintegrating corpse. I simply couldn't trust myself to _not_ try and use it, so I had to hand it over to him for safekeeping. A good call, since even now, I could feel a hunger inside my chest, no, my very _soul_. Hunger for that tantalizing forbidden knowledge that I _knew_ , with absolute certainty, was captured within those pages. The secrets of the universe, at my disposal. As was only right. After all, did I not already know more of this universe and its counterparts across the multiverse than any other being could know? Did I not tear knowledge of the history of the universe from Dormammu's clutches? Why not take _these_ secrets? Just because some foolish, _weak_ mortals fell to its temptations? I was no pathetic human! I was a Titan! Hyperion himself, born again! I wielded the Mind Stone, my power and my power were far greater than some simple book! It should be mine! It _IS_ MINE! MINE, I OWN IT AND NOBODY-

"MICHAEL!"

Sterns urgent shout and a sudden burst of pain at the base of my neck snap me out thoughts that I hadn't even realized I was thinking. Blinking stars from my vision, I look away from the Darkhold, feeling… _dirty_ as my eyes cannot help but linger for a moment. Turning my attention to Sterns, I take in his worried expression and the sparking 'hand' of one of his raised mechadendrites.

"You tazed me?" I ask slowly, my voice sounding as if it's coming from very far away.

"Seemed like the right thing to do at the time." Sterns shoots back in response, and I notice that he doesn't put the mechanical arm down.

As clarity slowly but steadily starts returning to my mind, I give him a measured nod.

"Yes. Yes, it was. Thank you Sam."

I stride out of the alcove, firmly putting my back to it, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"Close it." I order in a gruff voice and not a second later I hear the smooth mechanical whirring signifying the wall sliding back into place, once more hiding the alcove and the book away.

I _hate_ the pang of loss that I feel when I hear the clicks as the final panels fall into place again.

Stupid book.

"It's like I thought. I had hoped things had changed with my newly acquired power, but it seems I was overconfident. Either I'm not yet fully enveloped by Light Dimension, or Light energy is less effective against Hell then it is against pure Dark Dimension energy, _or_ I am simply too powerhungry. Whatever the case, I cannot be trusted with the damned thing." I say lowly, giving a deep sigh, before I turn towards Sterns with a serious expression.

"I'm putting my trust in you Sam. Don't ever allow me back here. Not even if I beg, not if I give you a million reasons why it's now safe, not even if I were to _threaten_ you. That thing _cannot_ be allowed to fall into the wrong hands and I can't trust myself with it. Just… lock the thing up and throw away the key."

"I understand Michael. I know how it feels. When I picked it up, it was only because of the security protocols I built into my mind that even alerted me to its corrupting nature. I threw it in my pocket dimension so it didn't have any further influence on me and I strengthened my subroutines _significantly_. All in all, I was only in contact with the thing for a few minutes, and I _still_ want to study it. Imagine it, Michael. Imagine the things we could know. Imagine the things that we could _do_ …"

Sterns trails off as he talks and when I turn to look at him, I can see a wistful expression on his face as he stares at the spot in the wall behind which the Darkhold lies. Carefully keeping my own gaze averted from the same spot, I sling my arm around him and march ourselves out of the storage room, slamming the door shut behind us with a little more force than necessary.

Standing in the hallway, we both notice we immediately start breathing somewhat more easily and we waste no time in moving away from the little room towards the elevators. We've been down here long enough, we could use some fresh air and I don't really feel like using magic at the moment.

As we're waiting for the elevator, Sterns softly speaks up.

"What the hell could have such an influence on people? Is the Hell Dimension really that powerful?"

"My guess? It's Mephisto's diary or something. Just like him to throw an artefact like that on Earth, just for shits and giggles and watch the carnage and despair unfold. He's a dick like that." I grunt, anger rising in me as I reflect on the _weakness_ the Darkhold's lure had exposed within me.

I _hated_ the feeling. Hated the Darkhold even more.

As the elevator arrives and we step inside, Sterns turns to look at me, his face determined.

"So, what are we gonna do about it? I still have the entanglement read-outs from when I destabilized the portal and the Hell-creatures already on Earth. Just say the word, and I'll rip open a portal to Hell so we can go there and _I_ can collapse entire parts of their dimension and _you_ can shove Mephisto's head up his own ass."

"Tempting. But perhaps not feasible right now. Within his own realm, Mephisto is in the same league as Dormammu and I only survived against _him_ because of the way the Time Stone's powers can be exploited in his dimension. I'll have to think of a similar trick before I face Mephisto, or he'll disintegrate me before I can even challenge him."

"Pity. Though, while you're coming up with a plan to kick Mephisto's ass, what are we going to do with the Darkhold in the meantime?"

"What you usually do when you find someone's lost property of course. We're gonna send that diary back to its owner."

* * *

Watching the Hysminai at work was… odd. I couldn't help but respect the sheer _efficiency_ , the smoothness with which they moved, their impeccable reaction and the sheer skill that was broadcasted with every step they took and with every move they made.

On the other hand, watching them swiftly beating someone to death with their own spine wasn't exactly for the faint of heart. Not that I was, but watching the brutal death over several dozen people because of my orders isn't something that leaves me unaffected, even if I don't show it. Thankfully, Whitehall's mind had confirmed that this was a Hydra-facility through and through, instead of something they had merely infiltrated.

So I could rest easy knowing that the guy who just had a supersoldier's fist shoved down his throat was a death cult neo-Nazi who definitely deserved a cruel and unusual death.

All in all, it took my three Hysminai less than half an hour to breach the Herefordshire facility, track down all its occupants and kill them all. As I was watching them, I saw… oddities that hinted at their previous lives and personalities while they were still elite soldiers for Hydra.

For instance, one of them kept trying to shove bodies in whatever closet, wardrobe or even cupboard was available with an almost mechanical determination, completely uncaring about whether the room available was sufficient to hold one dead Hydra agent and apparently unbothered by the legs, arms and legs that kept poking out.

The one where he tried (and even _managed_ ) to force a full-grown man in a drawer is something that I will be forced to carry with me until the end of my days.

Still, they got the job done quickly and effectively, and without damaging the facility itself _too_ much. I quickly created a portal from one of my storage levels to the Hydra facility and ordered them to start ferrying the loot over as quickly as possible, making sure to phrase the instructions specifically enough that they'd only take what I wanted them to, aided by telepathically impressing my instructions in their altered minds.

I hardly needed them to start looting everything that wasn't nailed down and empty out the kitchen supplies or something.

As they started to work without even making a sound, I strode further into the base, my steps unerring towards my destination as I had Whitehall's memories to guide me. It took me only a few minutes before I arrived to a heavily reinforced, bolted door. The material it was made out of and the thick reinforced concrete doorpost it was set it told me this was meant to withstand even the most brazen assault.

I punched the thing clean off its hinges.

Ignoring the dust, I stride further into the room, trampling over the dented door without a care as my eyes immediately start scanning my surroundings. Almost immediately, I spot my prize. A structure of smooth black metal with a seam down the middle, about as tall as a man and wider at the base than at the top. It's connected to several control modules, but they should be relatively easy to disconnect and then transport, especially when one has access to Cross Technology.

Approaching it, I lay one enormous hand flat against its smooth surface, looking down on the foreboding looking machine, a smile playing around my lips.

"Why, hello there my little Particle Infusion Chamber. I've got some great news for you: you're going to help me become a God. Isn't that grand?"

* * *

 **May 10** **th** **, 12:10**

After my return from Othrys and quick check up on the various projects my scientists had going on (even the regular ones, those that didn't deal with glorious SCIENCE!) my fortress had turned into a hive of activity, especially as many of them saw the footage that Phineas had uploaded of my last loop in the Dark Dimension, Captain Marvel's smear campaign, her and SHIELD's attempt at arresting me and the subsequent fight in Namibia.

Those little clips had gone viral almost instantly and already internet forums and talk shows were bursting at the seams as people fell over themselves trying to fling their opinion into the world. As expected there were people choosing my side, people choosing the government's side and people who were on the fence about it all. Philosophical debates about the structuring of society and the distribution of power were offset by people either ranting that they thought SHIELD was a dictatorship and people screaming I was obviously evil and intending world domination. What I hadn't considered was the reaction of those who were part of my religion (or Michaelites as Phineas kept on insistently calling them).

They were obviously very negative about how SHIELD tried to handle things, apparently with the full support of the Government, and they were especially vicious in attacking Carol. What I hadn't expected was _why_ a large part of them were so worked up about it and what their suggested solution was.

They felt that SHIELD didn't have the authority to charge me with anything to begin with. They claimed that, since I was a God, I could hardly be tried by mortal law. That was created by humans, for humans, conforming the human knowledge about themselves, others and what they thought would best help a society thrive.

As a God, I stood _above_ this. I was smarter than any mortal, _clearly_ my actions were serving a higher, unknowable purpose completely outside of the scope of human understanding that had created laws in the first place. I didn't need to conform to societies' standards, since I didn't share the same flaws and weaknesses that formed much of the guidelines for creating and maintaining such a society.

It was… creepy. And somewhat unhelpful, since their comments were usually of the raving kind and almost always invited an immediate and vitriolic response from those who didn't trust or like me, leading to arguments all over the internet. Thankfully it hadn't boiled over into real life violence yet, but the potential was definitely there.

I couldn't really do much other than giving an official notice through Othrys' website and social media accounts, calling my followers to keep a cooler head and to please cease antagonizing others. Still, I knew that I could preach tolerance all I wanted, it wouldn't keep the zealots in the Church of the Sun (which is what the majority of them called themselves, which was only _marginally_ better than what Phineas called them) from expressing their love for me.

Violently.

'Cause that's healthy (please do note the sarcasm there).

Overall though, the general perception towards me had shifted even further in my favor and, more importantly, it had definitely worsened for SHIELD and the Government. Fury was still going around trying to keep various agencies, senators and politicians to "back the fuck down before that crazy motherfucker wipes us all of the motherfucking face of the earth", so I'd give him some breathing room for now, but this was shaping up to be the perfect socio-political environment needed to deliver my outrageous demands.

In order to already being laying down the groundwork for those demands, I was at the UN once again. I'd been here since 8AM, moving from one meeting to the next, throwing my weight around. The discussions held in the big fancy rooms with the camera's and the press was the stuff that was shown to the public, but the _true_ changes and power laid here, in the back room politics and deals sealed with handshakes instead of official documents. And as the most powerful man on the planet, my presence had a way of filling the room and my grip was unyielding.

All in all, some of the most productive five hours of my life, even if they were amongst the most boring as well. Though much had changed since I woke up swaddled in blankets on the steps of an orphanage in an entirely different universe, a few things had stayed the same.

Such as my utter _loathing_ for politicians.

Some of them were alright, people genuinely just trying to do their job and do what they thought was right, maybe even help the world in their own little way.

But for the most part, I shook the hand of one sleazebag after the next, smiling charmingly at one shrew after the other, the hunger and greed clear to see even if I didn't have telepathy giving me an edge.

So, after five hours of this, I said 'fuck it!' and called it a day. I felt like my soul needed a shower and my mind needed to go bungie jumping in order to wake up again. Still, there was another reason why I chose _today_ to start networking at the UN specifically. It was the main reason, actually, the networking itself merely a pretense for my presence here.

My _real_ reason for coming here was currently defending herself against the full gathered assembly of UN representatives, distinctly out of place in her flowing pastel robes and bald head.

"No, Mister Jieyi. The Masters of the Mystic Arts are _not_ terrorist organizations that have imbedded themselves in various nations for whatever malicious purpose you seem to think we're after. We _also_ are _not_ building a superpowered armor for similar purposes, _nor_ do I agree with your rather blunt statement that the Masters of the Mystic Arts should submit themselves to the authority of Government officials. We have been independent and _neutral_ for well over _three thousand_ years. We will continue to remain independent until said otherwise by the Sorcerer Supreme, and no other."

The Ancient One's voice is cold and dry, slashing through the murmur of the large auditorium like a whip, her gaze stern and forbidding, daring the diplomats arrayed against her to challenge her. This isn't the first time she's been asked to appear before a committee of sorts (most notably the city councils of New York and London, as well as the ruling body of their respective countries), it's not even the first time that she's appeared before the UN. While magic was suspected to exist when I was shown using it in public during the One Day War, it was either thought to be just a manifestation of my power or something thinly spread and very primitive.

Hermits living on far off mountain tops, that sort of thing.

Humanity was hardly prepared for the realization that there was a dedicated force of wizards that had been protecting Earth from interdimensional horrors since even before Narmer first unified Upper and Lower Egypt and became the first Pharaoh of the First Dynasty. Isolated hermits and loopy druids were fine, people could deal with exceptions and outliers. But a worldwide spanning organization, with a rich history, defined hierarchy, powerful leadership and abilities that were extraordinary?

It was a good thing the Ancient One led the wizards into battle against the Demons and Mindless Ones or we might have been saddled with the hassle of a 21st century witch-hunt. As it was now, people were sort of split on them. On the one hand, they _did_ help push back one of the most gruesome invasions Earth has seen this century (and considering as of last year, that includes an _alien_ armada, that's saying something). On the other hand, a lot of people were blaming them for the invasion happening in the first place. The way they saw it, the Masters of the Mystic arts failed at the same job they've been doing for the past few thousand years. The Ancient One revealed that their purpose is to prevent interdimensional threats, yet _two_ interdimensional threats had come to Earth, ergo, the Ancient One and her people had failed.

Of course, people's perceptions of the wizards was completely uprooted and flipped on its head when it came out that _anyone_ can learn magic. People had just automatically assumed that, since magic is special, the people capable of performing it had to be as well. And for the most part, this was actually true. Strange and I were outliers, the greatest prodigies the Masters had seen in _centuries_ (of course, once Strange actually goes and becomes a wizard, that is) and I cheated. For the majority of the population, anywhere between 60 and 80%, their magical skills would barely extend beyond being capable of casting a proper shield or spear, if even that.

It simply took too much dedication and focus to be readily available to people, but it wasn't a question of blood. For those who _did_ have the required mental fortitude to throw themselves into the brutal grind that was learning magic… well, the world just became their oyster.

As that realization shook the world, people flooded the Sanctums by the hundreds, thousands even. It was the biggest influx of new students since… well, since there even were Sanctums, really. And considering the losses her people had suffered, and the Ancient One's own philosophy of never turning away those in pain and need (her initial reluctance of accepting Strange a rather unique case after all), the vast majority of them were accepted.

She only rejected those who she felt would do harm with magic, either to themselves or others, or those that came with the wrong intentions (such as greed or hate), or those that she felt required the kind of healing that her Sanctums couldn't provide, or simply those that absolutely _no_ aptitude for the Mystical Arts _at all_.

Still, even with these strict requirements, hundreds of new students woke up in the days following Hell Week in pastel colored robes, taking a wide stance and milling their hands in the air as they tried to create runic arrays.

Naturally, the world governments wanted in on the deal as well. They saw the Sanctums and wanted them either robbed completely empty, or under their control. They saw the wizards and either wanted to create more of them, or place the existing ones under their control. They considered the potential of magically enhanced soldiers and many general the world over nearly creamed their pants at the prospect of spell-slinging troops.

Naturally, the Ancient One didn't approve of _any_ of that, and she had absolutely no trouble telling them that. Every politician, every committee, every journalist received the same answer: "We are independent and we are neutral. And we will continue to remain so until the Sorcerer Supreme says otherwise."

Of course, this had only intrigued people _more_ , and the Ancient One remained stuck trying to defend her people and their independence from one meeting to the next, barely getting any sleep in.

Time to give her a break.

"Sorcerer Supreme!"

My voice thunders through the large room, immediately silencing everyone present. My entrance is sudden and loud enough that several of the more easily frightened diplomats nearly leap out of their seats, but the Ancient One merely inclines her head towards me, a tiny smile visible on her face.

She's not at all surprised to see me, and when I brush against her mind I realize it's because she felt my energy approaching from a mile away.

Damn, have to work on that, I'm leaking power like a faucet.

"Hyperion." She acknowledges dryly, her voice cool and collected.

"Would you walk with me, please? There is something I feel you and I need to discuss. It is of great importance." I intone, projecting my voice and making sure to pitch it deep and serious.

The Ancient One's little smile widens just slightly at my little bit of theater, and widens even further when she sees that it's effective against a surprisingly large part of the people present.

"Of course. Matters of great importance always have my full attention." She replies, folding her hands behind her back as she simply walks away from the microphone stand without even looking back or a 'by your leave'.

Still, not _all_ of the diplomats here get the hint.

"Now just hang on a minute! You can't just barge in here and interrupt this session! She's yet to answer all of our questions, we don't even know her name, let alone…"

The silver haired, middle aged man (the Permanent Representative of the United Kingdom to the United Nations apparently, as my little HUD reveals) slowly trails off and sinks back down in his seat when my eyes lock with his. My expression is severe and my tone completely flat as I answer him.

"Matters of great importance, Sir Grant. First, you should ask yourself what these could _possibly_ be, especially when they are discussed by Hyperion and the Ancient One. Apparently important enough even, that the former is willing to halt this session and retrieve the latter. _Quite_ important indeed then. _Secondly,_ you should ask yourself whether these matters of great importance between these two distinguished and _extremely_ powerful figures is something _you_ wish to interrupt. Well, Mr. Grant? Do you?"

Silence stifles the room as the diplomat shrinks deeper into his seat with every word, giving me a furtive shake of his head at my last question.

"Good." I merely reply, and to add insult to injury, I create a massive portal right then and there, far larger than necessary (it's big enough to let two elephants pass through side by side) and I intentionally create it low to the ground, the bottom edge of the portal just ever so slightly gouging the carpeted floor.

Turning towards the tiny woman at my side, I give a slight bow as I extend my hand.

"After you, oh Ancient One."

"Why thank you, oh Hyperion." The bald wizard replies dryly, and steps through to the other side, arriving in what appears to be the Siberian taiga.

I follow immediately after her, walking alongside her on the pebbled bank of a small burbling river which cuts through the tree dotted rolling hills of our idyllic surroundings. We walk in silence for a moment as I intentionally let the portal stay open, long enough so that I can feel people slowly gathering on the other side of it, looking both in amazement and suspicion. I wait right until someone slowly extends their hands towards it, before I slam it shut with a sudden snap, timing it just right so nobody loses any limbs or other assorted bodyparts.

With the portal gone, silence returns to this little piece of wilderness, and for a moment, the two of us are content to simply walk in peace, a welcome reprieve of the madness that has hounded our steps since Hell Week has ended. Of course, I came to her for a reason and we know this little moment of peace and quiet cannot last, so with a small sigh, the Ancient One comes to a halt, turning to gaze up at me.

"Why are we out here Michael?" she asks, though she doesn't sound suspicious or afraid, merely curious.

"Well, for a variety of reasons I suppose. There's a lot to discuss going forwards. How to deal with the current fall-out of Hell Week, obviously. There are also matters that I wish to discuss with you regarding the future. What to do when Jessica returns, for instance, and even further down the line, when the Convergence occurs and even beyond then. I will require a _lot_ magical expertise in the foreseeable future, and considering what's at stake, only the best of the best will do. But honestly? One of the main reasons why we're here is because… I'm confused."

"To be confused is no evil or terrible thing, Michael. All of us get confused about _something_ at some point in our lives after all. What is it that troubles you?"

"You do."

At my blunt tone, the Ancient One blinks in surprise, before I elaborate, undoing the top few buttons of my dress shirt, revealing what is underneath.

"Or rather, your actions regarding _this_." I say, lightly tapping the smooth metal plates of the Eye of Agamotto.

"When you first approached me in Othrys, you told me you'd never give this to me, since it was one of the most treasured artifacts of your order. Even when New York was being overrun by demons, you hesitated to hand it over, even if you already knew that it was the only way to put a stop to the Invasion. That was _five days_ ago and you haven't claimed it back yet. You haven't even sent me a message, or _anything_ at all. Why?"

It may sound weird that I was asking someone why they weren't taking away one of my major power boosts, but that was precisely the point. The Time Stone had the potential to be the most powerful weapon in my arsenal, and I didn't understand (and therefore didn't _trust_ ) the Ancient One's actions regarding it. The last thing I needed was her blindsiding me and retrieving the ridiculously powerful artifact while I was still wracking my mind trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

For a moment, the Ancient One tilts her head as a little smile tugs at her lips, her hands still clasped nonchalantly behind her back.

"I'm surprised you haven't come to the correct conclusion yourself already. You are intelligent and you clearly remember our first conversation, so that should be sufficient to unravel the great and obfuscating mysteries surrounding my actions." The Ancient One says with a laugh, which just causes me to scowl.

"Michael. Think back to what I said. Analyze not just the words themselves, but the _meaning_ and _intent_ behind them as well. I told you: 'the Sanctums will not allow you to wield the Eye of Agamotto, as it is only to be wielded by the Sorcerer Supremes'. Clearly, I have allowed you to wield and thereafter _keep_ the Eye of Agamotto. Therefore…" the Ancient One trails off with a smirk and a raised eyebrow as she's clearly enjoying the shock that's on my face as the meaning of her words starts to truly register with me.

"Congratulations Hyperion of the East River, Lord of Light, Titan of Flame, 42nd Sorcerer Supreme of Earth. May you lead us well."

…

…

…

"WHAT?!"

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** After more than ten years and well over twenty movies, the MCU is perhaps the most expansive fictional universe ever put to screen. Much of it has explored, even if it doesn't always make it into the movies, such as their own in-universe media. Marvel intermittently uploads videos to YouTube from WHIH Newsfront, a fictional news show set within the MCU. The segments star Leslie Bibb as Christine Everhart, the reporter who slept with Tony Stark in the first Iron Man film, and they cover all manner of MCU news—from coverage of the New York Incident to interviews with Scott Lang.

 **AN:** Sorry it took so long, this chapter did _not_ want to be written. I struggled with where to take the story in a way that believable (and neatly) ties off the last loose string left on Earth before I can have Michael try and finish the last of his Twelve (ha! Hahahaha!) Steps, but stuff just either didn't fit or kept getting in the way. Then there's the entire bit with the Darkhold that came out of nowhere, but I suddenly realized that I had to do _something_ with it: I can hardly have it just laying around after Shuri dies. Briefly it tried to develop into its own subplot when Michael turned away from the door and ordered Sterns to shut it. It wanted Sterns to have already been corrupted from his initial exposure, so he instead quickly puts the book underneath his robe and then closes it, lying about it to Michael. Then there'd be a descent into darkness for him, until eventually he betrays Othrys and Michael has this super emotional and badass confrontation with his oldest friend who _might_ be able to be redeemed. Then I realized I did _not_ have the time or energy left to explore such an arc right before the story is about to wrap up and I ruthlessly squashed that little plot bunny like a bug. So yeah, eventually instead of writing a chapter in which all those little arcs and loose threads come to their conclusion, I instead ended up writing a chapter that lays to foundation for all that in the next chapter. It's better this way I feel, but I understand if people feel it was boring. The next chapter will be somewhat boring as well, since it will just be Michael going around and getting people do to what he needs them to do, though there's also a bit of drama involved there, which I've hinted at in this chapter. Anyway, that's enough out of me for now, my fingers hurt and I'm hungry. I hoped you enjoyed the chapter, and I'll see you all in a couple of weeks. Cheers!

 _As always, a huge thanks to my Patrons, I truly do appreciate and love you all! IronmanMarkIV, Shaman95, justlovereadin, Daniel Dorfman, DoctorTortoise, DavidJP, CJ Elsen, Sam, Carn Krauss, ReaperScythe, Thordur hrafn, RC Oprea, Yan R Bernier, CrankyD, Devon, Kyle Reese, Kahn, RLStrained, Vu, Roman Krupkin! Thanks again for your support!_


	54. Quick notice

**Quick notice** : Those of you who follow this story over on SpaceBattles (probably) already know this, but I wanted to give a heads up over here as well.

Last Sunday, I had a car accident. Thankfully, I was only bruised and shaken up and the damage to the car, while extensive, was only surface level, leaving my engine and axels intact. Due to extreme rain fall and worse roads than I'm used to, my car started to swerve in the middle of a corner. I tried to countersteer, but instead I slammed into the guard rails. A good thing too, since otherwise there'd been a couple of dozen feet deep drop onto another highway.

All in all, I'm thankful how lucky I was in getting out of that situation without major injury, though the experience, as well as the resulting damages and stress, mean that I won't be focusing on writing for a little while. Once I'm in a better headspace again, I'll pick up the story where it left off.

Until then, stay safe and wear your seatbelts. Experience tells me they're life savers.


	55. A New Problem

_**Chapter 40 – A New Problem**_

* * *

"Wait, what!"

"For the _third_ time, you are now the new Sorcerer Supreme."

"What?!"

"You. Sorcerer Supreme. Deal with it."

"Wait, says who!?"

"Me."

"Is that even legal?! Can you even _do_ that?!"

"Of course I can. Sorcerer Supremes _can_ retire, you know. Succession isn't _always_ necessary just because the previous holder of the title has died… though admittedly, this _does_ tend to happen worryingly often. I think the last Sorcerer Supreme who actually _retired_ from his duties instead of being eaten alive by a cosmic horror was a Roman Consul."

"Don't I get a say in all this?!"

"I mean, you _could_ object. But that would mean I'd have to both remove the amulet from your possession, erase a not insignificant part of your memories and knowledge regarding the Sanctums and magic and do a similar sweep amongst your people. Since I felt that you would object to _that_ more than you would object to a shiny new title to add to your already overbearingly long name, I simply decided to go with the far easier route. Was I wrong?"

"…"

"Thought so."

Letting out an explosive sigh, which turns the frigid air of the surrounding Siberian taiga to steam, I pinch the bridge of my nose, shutting my eyes so I don't have to look at the Ancient One's smug face anymore.

"Look. I don't _want_ the job. I don't have the time for it and I don't know the first thing about running a secret mystical organization against interdimensional cosmic horrors!"

"You seem to be doing just fine with Othrys and we _all_ know how you faired against the legions of Hell and Dormammu himself."

"That's different. Othrys is _home_ and Hell and Dormammu were actively invading. I just reacted."

"And you think I regard my people, my _duty_ any differently? I know that this is sudden, Michael. But in time, I hope that you will see the Masters of the Mystic Arts with the same fondness that you regard the people of Othrys with."

"Look, isn't there some other way-"

"Michael. You are _Hyperion_. In the little time you have been active, you have already saved humanity _twice_. Your power is undeniable, even if to some your motives are questionable. You wield the most sacred artefact of our Order and in doing so have accomplished the unthinkable: bringing the Great Enemy to his knees, in his _own dimension_ no less. No to mention _killing_ Belathauzer, a Lord of Hell beforehand! I could not in good conscience call myself Sorcerer Supreme while standing next to you, wearing the symbol of my position and wielding a power that eclipses my own, though it still requires… polishing. You lack finesse. A _lot_. Still, the truth was clear to me: if not conflict, then unification. I chose the latter. And sputter and flail all you wish, you and I both know you would choose the same. So why this reluctance?"

"It's just…"

Words fail to come as I turn away from the wizened woman, staring out over the vast expanse of hardy vegetation and blinding snow.

"… it just feels like there's a lot on my plate right now. Perhaps too much. I feel like I'm getting overwhelmed at times. There's so much that needs doing, so many people I feel need my guidance, so many discoveries yet to be made, goals yet to be reached. There's so much going on right now that I worry I'm losing sight of my original purpose, being… _tethered_ down to things outside of the scope of my own ambition. As if the _true_ threat is steadily building up its power, readying its attack, while I'm stuck spinning my wheels, distracted by inane things that ultimately do not matter."

I'm drawn from my musings by a tiny hand softly resting on my bulging bicep and I look down to see the Ancient One giving me an encouraging half-smile.

" _All_ things matter, Michael. Even if you do not see their ultimate use right away. You are not a monolith, or a vacuum. You do not merely exist, you _co-exist_. These 'distractions'? They will show their true worth to you when the time is right. As long as you know what your goal is, your final destination, then the steps in-between shall only aid you in your journey."

I stay silent for a few moments as I overthink the Sorcerer's words, simply taking in our peaceful surroundings as I mentally review everything that I feel needs to be done in order to complete my Plan and achieve the peace of mind I have been searching for since the day I realized I shared a universe with several individuals capable of destroying it.

It doesn't take long for me to realize there's really only one thing I can say to her.

"Fine. I'll take the job."

The Ancient One folds her hands in her wide sleeves as she gives me a bright smile, a mischievous light dancing in her pale blue eyes.

"See? That wasn't so bad, now-"

"And my first act as the 42nd Sorcerer Supreme is as follows: there is now the position of Sorcerer Adequate-but-still-pretty-damned-decent. Their job is to handle all internal affairs of the Three Sanctums and make sure that the Sorcerer Supreme receives the _least_ amount of paperwork possible. The Sorcerer Adequate-but-still-pretty-damned-decent is appointed by the Sorcerer Supreme and they aren't allowed to refuse. As my _second_ act as the 42nd Sorcerer Supreme, I nominate you as Sorcerer Adequate-but-still-pretty-damned-decent. Have fun handling… basically everything. See ya!"

And before the Ancient One can recover from her gob-smacked expression, a massive portal slams into existence behind me and I swiftly dash through it, emerging high in the sky above Othrys.

"Wait! You can't do that!"

"What was it you said? Oh yeah! Of _course_ I can!"

"Michael! You still need to give a speech-!"

"Let me get back to you on that!"

And with a cheeky wave, I allow the portal to slam shut. Sure, the Ancient One is still on the other side in the middle of Siberia, but she's perfectly capable of teleporting herself out of there, not to mention that she's probably the most dangerous being walking around there.

' _Right. Sorcerer Supreme. That's… quite something. Something that I just know is going to demand even more of my time, as if I wasn't being overworked already. On the other hand, I_ _ **did**_ _plan on advancing my magical knowledge…"_ I pondered as I allowed myself to gently float down to Othrys' expansive lawn.

Additionally, it would mean I would hold an official title. Sure, many called me Hyperion or New Titan or something similar, but the only _officially_ recognized titles I had were as CEO of Titan Solutions and owner of North Brother Island. Despite being instrumental in beating back two extra-planetary invasions and having the most powerful fighting force on the planet in my employ, I didn't actually have any kind of military or governmental rank. The over two dozen superhumans in highly advanced gear under my command were simply listed as Titan Solutions' security forces after all.

I didn't even have the nebulous position that the Avengers had, since they were very clearly connected to SHIELD and through them to the World Governments, even if they didn't really follow a higher authority or orders from anyone other than Peggy and occasionally Fury (though with the whole Captain Marvel debacle, that might have changed).

While I had immense amounts of 'soft' power, that is to say unofficial or implicit, I didn't actually hold a _real_ position within the superstructure of the world governments. Not even in regards to the PDF that was steadily taking shape (the foundation for what would become their orbital base would be finished by the end of this month), as Titan Solutions was merely a partner on the projects (undeniably the biggest and most crucial one, but 'only' a partner nonetheless), as far as anyone was aware that is.

However, Sorcerer Supreme was an _actual_ title and while it wasn't recognized by _all_ governments on Earth, it _was_ recognized amongst many throughout the uni- and multiverse. It should give me more leeway in interacting with existing power structures that were simply too large (or too public) to just brush past with my usual bullheadedness.

As I'm slowly warming up to the idea of becoming the next Sorcerer Supreme, even with all of the additional responsibilities it will undoubtedly require of me, Phineas suddenly pops up in the HUD hidden in the advanced contact lens I'm wearing in my left eye.

"Michael! Big news!"

I'm immediately alert, giving my AI friend my undivided attention.

"Yes?"

"Jess was spotted! She killed Klaue!"

"When and where?" I respond immediately, heat emanating from my eyes.

"In the center of Brussels, not even half an hour ago!" he replies, putting up a map with precise coordinates on my HUD.

"Right." I respond, but the word is said without real thought as I'm more focused on tearing open a portal.

A quick flick of my wrist, an orange spinning circle in space-time and a step later, I go from New York to the capital of Belgium. Usually I'd remark on how bullshit portals were, but this time I immediately started walking towards the commotion I could spot a few dozen feet away instead. I had emerged onto the center of the city, known as the Grote Markt (literally Big Marketplace. Inventive, I know), making sure to target my portal a few meters off the ground so I wouldn't accidentally bisect a tourist or something.

The usually beautiful looking square was in complete disarray with people running every which way in complete panic. The thick black smoke coming from one corner of the square was a pretty good indication as to why. What was a picturesque centuries old building a mere few hours ago had been reduced to a ruin. Its windows were almost all completely gone, its façade blackened and broken and various fires littered its surface while rubble was strewn haphazardly in front of it.

The classic signs of an explosion.

Somewhat _less_ classic where the clear T-Rex footprints burned into the front of the building and several deep arching gouges in the cobbled plaza and terrace as if made by an immensely powerful, burning chain.

 _Definitely_ Jess' work.

Thankfully, I couldn't spot any bodies in the building itself, though several people closest to it standing on the plaza looked very much disoriented, some of them covered in fine dust or having blood trickling from their noses or ears.

If I wanted to figure out what happened here, I'd first need to calm everyone down first. I couldn't even properly think with the hundreds of voices calling out in a panic, creating a deluge of sheer noise. So I focused on the Mind Stone, channeling my own powers through it as if it were an amplifier. Then I sent out my own mind over the scrambling crowds, touching their fear and confusion and pushing in my own calm and determination.

While it worked to take the edge off the sheer panic most of them felt, utilizing the Mind Stone in this way wasn't exactly effective. While immensely powerful in its own right, I was currently dealing with raw, primal emotions on an immense scale, something not _entirely_ within the Mind Stone's portfolio. I mean, I definitely _could_ calm everyone her down with a burst of psychokinetic energy, but the level of power required likely meant that several of the people present would be left catatonic afterwards (the Infinity Stones didn't exactly do _subtle_ ). So on a whim, while still broadcasting calm thoughts towards the crowd, I tried to grasp for my connection to the Light Dimension.

I knew that it was there, but I hadn't yet tried to consciously draw on it, only having done so automatically as a result of pushing into the Super Saiyan mode I stole from Carol. _Now_ it felt like grabbing mist with my bare hands. It was _right there_ , in both body and soul, connected to me on an intrinsic level, yet I couldn't take hold of it like I did with my Jessica field or Chi powers. Realizing a forceful approach wasn't doing the trick, I instead completely flipped my approach.

Instead of actively seeking it out, only to have it slip through my fingers each time, I now acted more passively. Not chasing it, but letting it approach me, suffuse me and go through me. Instead of acting like a wielder of the energy, I mentally envisioned myself as a conduit to it.

Because I was so intently focused inwards that I had closed my eyes, I didn't realize I was successful until I suddenly noticed a far more positive mental feedback from the masses I was trying to affect. Well that and the ache that suddenly lanced throughout my body. It was like a particularly bad case of cramps, though considering what else I have gone through in the past years and subjective centuries, I easily power through it, ignoring the discomfort with ease. Opening my eyes, I looked in surprise at the sheer white glow coming from underneath my skin. It looked like something halfway between my Extremis-veins and Chi-flesh, but instead of glowing red or molten gold, this was the brightest white I've ever seen. It pulsed in time with my heartbeat, but didn't seem to follow any internal structure of my body like veins or bones.

It also radiated out from me far more than the other glows my body tended to have, reaching dozens of feet away from me and almost seeming to chase away the shadows wherever it touched.

It's effects evidently reached far further than merely the visible corona of light surrounding me however, as I could feel people lose their panic even on the other end of the square. Interestingly enough, it was replaced by what felt like… hope?

Huh, I didn't know Light Dimension energy could do that. I had counted on it having _some_ sort of amplifying effect on positive emotions, but I hadn't anticipated the scale or the intensity of said emotion. It seems there's more to it than simply making hard-light objects out of it, as it also has a rather impressive mental/emotional component to it.

Something to study at a later date however, first I had to investigate what seemed to be the place of execution of one Ulysses Klaue.

With the crowd no longer running around or screaming their heads off, I could finally focus and as I raised my arms, the golden plates on the amulet at my throat whirling away, I addressed the stunned and suddenly light-hearted people.

" **Please step back. Emergency services shall be with you shortly. Give me some space here."**

At my booming voice and the sight of the emerald glow coming from the most powerful jewelry on Earth, the people collectively moved away from me as far as they could without trampling each other. Everyone still felt oddly hopeful and happy, but other than making a mental note of it (Phineas was watching so I knew he'd have it saved on his databanks as well) I ignored the now silent crowd.

With a flex of my will, the green glow increased and spread to cover and suffuse the burnt out husk of the building in front of me. Then I twisted my right hand counter-clockwise and following the movement, almost like a movie in reverse but… _weirder_ , the building restored itself. Burn-marks faded, broken stone melded back together and shattered glass spiraled back into pristine windows again. It was the work of moments, but it still looked damned impressive, judging from the amazed exclamations from the people at my back and the flashes of cell phones recording as much as possible.

As the centuries old façade restored itself to its previous impeccable state, I allowed the magic to fade, the Eye of Agamotto closing once more. While the crowd kept muttering and taking pictures, I merely frowned as I took in the scene.

Something was missing.

"Where's Klaue's corpse?" I ask lowly, my eyes roaming over the building as I float up towards it, Phineas looking through it as well.

"… I don't know. There's nobody in there Michael. Not even a body."

"Do you have any footage of the confrontation?"

"I've hacked the CCTV of the city and have been browsing their files since I called you. There's very little: Klaue seems to have dodged most of the cameras, but I've found him in the footage of a couple of them about a block away. He was wearing a special set of glasses that interfered with the recordings, so he wasn't recognized by the databases that are hooked up to the network, but he took them off when he took a seat on the terrace. It almost looks like he _wanted_ to be found. As if he were _waiting_."

Recalling the gouge and claw marks, it's not difficult to guess _who_ he was waiting for.

"And Jess?"

"Popped out of a portal only two streets away from here about an hour ago now and then ran over rooftops in a straight line to where Klaue was waiting. I have _some_ footage of her landing on this building and walking down its front, but then there's a bright flash and nothing but static on all nearby cameras."

"So no clue what happened to Klaue?"

"Well… if he's not _here_ … maybe it's because his body is somewhere else? Like… if Susan… _ate_ him?"

There's a beat of silence between us as we process that possibility, before I shake it off.

"Right, speculation will get us nowhere."

And once more, I focus on the Amulet at my throat as I pull up my legs, floating cross-legged in the air with my arms held up loosely at my sides. If Strange could see millions of futures, then I should be able to at least view _one_ past. Especially if it had only happened recently.

As I divert my attention to the empty terrace below me, I gather my magical power, relying on the Infinity Stone. But instead of pushing it outwards, _into_ my surroundings in order to send them through time, this time I draw it _inwards_ instead, opening my mind as I do.

Falling in a deep trance, I allow the energy of the Time Stone to come over me as I close my eyes… and view this same location, only as it was one and a half hours ago in the past.

* * *

 _I'm a spectral figure standing on a square that mirrors the one I had just left and where my physical body still floats several feet off the ground. Almost everything is the same – the tourists, the pigeons, the peddlers and their wares – and yet there are also startling differences, even after I repaired the destroyed restaurant._

 _For instance,_ _ **this**_ _one still has people in it. Its terrace is actually a bit crowded with people enjoying famous Belgian beer or chocolates as they rest their feet after a mad shopping spree or sightseeing tour._

 _The sound of boots striking the cobbled street in a confident tempo coming from several feet behind me and to my left grabs my attention. Especially since the steps sound heavier than a human is supposed to be._

 _Glancing over my shoulder, I spot the man of the hour._

 _It's a small miracle that Klaue has made it this far into Brussels without being noticed by the local authorities (and the hidden international ones hitching a ride on the local networks) considering he doesn't exactly… blend in very well._

 _He's wearing inconspicuous clothing, I'll give him that at least, a classic combination of thick shoes, rough jeans and a concealing hoodie with a baseball cap. But that's as far as his 'disguise' goes really. There's the subtle things of course, the kind which would be missed by the ordinary passerby but which even a seasoned cop would immediately pick up on. Things like the way he carries himself, like a predator, a wolf surrounded by unaware sheep. Then there are the…_ _ **unsubtle**_ _things as well. His unshaven, unclean appearance for one. The clearly futuristic glasses sitting on his face (probably worth a small fortune), which had scrambled any kind of facial recognition software (an idea I immediately file away to pass onto Melvin and his team at the Forges)._

 _And of course, the clearly inhuman mechanical arm._

 _Sure, he has it covered by the sleeve of his oversized hoodie, but the bumps and sharp edges poorly hidden underneath the faded fabric clearly stand out, to me at least._

 _It's the baseball cap somehow, I just know it. Baseball caps in this universe are some sort of highly advanced stealth equipment, generating a kind of S.E.P.-field. It's the only logical explanation._

 _Putting bullshit-stealth machines disguised as common headwear out of my mind, I watch with interest as Klaue takes a seat at one of the free tables left, putting his boots on opposite chair with an explosive sigh. He fumbles around in one of his pockets for a moment, somewhat hindered by his use of a single arm, before he extracts a_ _ **massive**_ _cigar with a triumphant smirk, lighting it in short order._

 _Blowing out thick clouds of smoke, he orders the most expensive beer and drink the restaurant has to offer, ignoring the serving girl's unsubtle glares at his dirty boots on the chair with ease. He simply leans back in his seat, gazing out over the square with an almost… satisfied look on his face._

 _He doesn't have to wait very long for his order to arrive, despite the general rush (perhaps the staff hope that if he finishes up quickly, he'll leave as soon as possible), but just as he is about to dig into the sandwich dripping with oil and fat, not bothering to wipe the froth-mustache off his face, a roar rings out across the city._

 _Ah, this is the part where Jessica and Susan had arrived then._

 _While the other patrons look around in confusion and slight fear (while both Invasions have taken place in New York, other cities the world over have still become somewhat paranoid of a repeat event happening to themselves), Klaue merely sighs, before shrugging his shoulders and digging into the (admittedly delicious looking) sandwich._

 _He keeps up his glib attitude even as Susan's massive head peaks over the edge of the building, looking down at the_ _ **rapidly**_ _emptying restaurant as patrons flee for their lives. While they don't really have anything to fear from her, their reaction to the rows of sharp teeth the size of their forearms slowly descending towards them is somewhat understandable. Still, Klaue continues gleefully munching on his sandwich even as tourists rush past his table by the dozens, until the entire restaurant is emptied out._

 _He doesn't even acknowledge Susan stalking down the side of the building at his back, completely defying all the laws of gravity, her burning eyes transfixed on his form as her large claws sink into centuries old brickwork. He simply washes away the sandwich by downing most of his beer, before burping loudly. It's only when the ground shakes as Susan drops the last few feet to the ground that he stills in his movements._

 _He makes to move towards the half-finished cigar still sitting on the ashtray, when a burning whip lashes through the air, slamming into the thick Havana… as well as the table beneath it… and the cobblestones between_ _ **that**_ _as well._

 _The chain retreats like a coiling snake, but Klaue hadn't even flinched, looking somewhat disappointed at his empty outstretched hand._

" _Now_ _ **that**_ _was just uncalled for. That was a perfectly fine cigar, one of the best blends on the market."_

 _At his softly muttered words, Susan lets out a low, deep growl, which is intense enough that it sends the windows and glasses on the tables rattling._

" _You're late!" Klaue calls out as he half-turns in his chair, grinning up at the T-Rex behind him and the woman who's riding said T-Rex._

 _Jessica is staring back down at him, her face set in a deep scowl as her eyes are glowing. Thankfully she hasn't transformed into a ghostly specter made of bone and Hellfire yet, but with (one of) the object(s) of the Ghost Rider's most recent Vengeance right in front of her, that's only a question of time really._

 _She doesn't seem to have really registered or even heard Klaue's cheeky comment, instead staring him dead in the eye._

" _Ulysses Klaue. You are responsible for Hell Week. I've come to exact Vengeance for all those who have died or been scarred by you and yours." She says, but there's an odd reverb to her voice, as if someone else is talking alongside her._

 _The arms dealer doesn't seem all that impressed however._

" _Oho! Ominous! A bit…_ _ **formal**_ _, but I think you pull it off. Pity it isn't Halloween, I'm sure a little kid would've pissed his pants at that." He laughs as he slowly stands from his table._

 _He reaches up with his remaining arm, before violently ripping the sleeve concealing his new mechanical one in a single violent movement, dismissively tossing the fabric to the side. He clenches the four thick digits a couple of times, hydraulics audibly moving in time with his will as he gives it a considering look._

 _Satisfied with what he sees, the Belgian slides into a combat stance, artificial arm cocked and ready at his side as he stares down Jessica and Susan with a smug expression. Even if I can't read his mind in this sort of 'simulation' it isn't difficult to understand his fearlessness._

 _This is truly a man with nothing left to lose._

 _His stance finally causes some expression to show on Jess' face as she lifts a single eyebrow._

" _Really? You_ _ **can't**_ _be serious." She scuffs and this time it sounds all her, causing me to slightly smile._

 _Klaue gives a self-deprecating shrug, mad grin still transfixed on his face._

" _Eh, I can still try though, right? I'm going to Hell, but I'm sure as Hell not going without a fight." He laughs, before his expression falls somewhat, gaining a somber look._

" _I owe it to her to at least_ _ **try**_ _." he mutters softly and I think I'm the only one who actually caught the mumbled words._

 _There's a pause as Klaue refocuses on the duo in front of him and a worrying gleam of madness and hate enters his eyes, his earlier grin now back in full force and creepily large. He's up to something._

 _Jessica clearly sees that_ _ **something**_ _is wrong as well, as without warning she explodes into a deep orange flame which swallows her and Susan in a column of Hellfire. It quickly draws away, dissipating into the now wavering air and standing on molten stone, a skeletal T-Rex and her rider stare down at the arms dealer, who briefly covered his face against the explosive heat from Jessica's transformation._

 _The long chain held in Jess' arm bursts into flame in equal fashion as she gives it a wide overhead swing, the burning metal ripping through stone and mortar as if it weren't even there._

" _So, here's my question: what do you wanna do more? Kill_ _ **me**_ … _or save_ _ **them**_ _?!" Klaue roars, swinging his arm around and pointing it straight behind him at the panicking people stuck on the crowded square._

 _Jessica and Susan begin to move towards him, but before they can even take a single step, hidden thrusters burst into life around Klaue's elbow and with a thunderous noise, his lower arm disconnects and flies off, propelled by rockets. The take-off is sudden and violent enough that he is thrown back and the snap of the bones in the upper-right part of his torso is clearly audible even over the noise of his propelled arm._

 _Narrowing my eyes, Time literally slows down to a crawl and I step closer towards the in-flight mechanical prosthetic, wondering why Klaue fired it at the crowd. Sure, it'd hit a couple of people and kill them, but that seemed too…_ _ **mild**_ _for what was apparently the Belgian's idea of going down swinging._

 _It was only once I got close enough to the damned thing that I saw his real plan: through the gaps in the plates that form the outer shell of the arm, I could see the inner parts and workings. And the thing seemed to be completely stuffed with advanced, high-yield explosives. Definitely above-military grade, the type of stuff that Stark Industries was pumping out under Stane's leadership. Glancing from the airborne arm towards the fleeing crowd, stuck in various frantic poses and frozen expressions of sheer terror, I estimate that Klaue's Last Laugh could take down roughly half of all people present._

 _ **Easily**_ _._

 _Still, when I arrived, De Grote Markt_ _ **wasn't**_ _a smoldering crater so Jessica clearly managed to do_ _ **something**_ _about the situation. Loosening my hold on the flow of Time, it resumes at its normal pace, the arm screaming towards the innocent people at several meters per second. Yet when it was mere feet away from its nearest victim (an unassuming looking man in his mid-forties, with thinning hair and ill-fitting glasses who looked on with wide eyes at his approaching doom) a burning chain lashed through the air at impossible speeds, curling around the bottom edge of the arm, halting it in its tracks mere inches from the man's face._

 _Jess gave an enormous heave of the taut chain and it followed her command immediately, raising itself up high, like a cobra readying itself to strike. At the top of its arc, it uncoiled from the arm which immediately sped off straight up towards the sky. It only travelled about a dozen feet or so before it exploded._

 _The sound was unbearably loud, a physical thing slamming into those standing below while a corona of fire bloomed into existence above the square, eclipsing several of the buildings below in size. But it was the wave of pressure and heat that slammed downwards that was truly felt by all. People were thrown to the ground, stands and tables fell over and the city was drowned out by the sound of car alarms going off in a mad cacophony of noise._

 _I took all of this in completely unaffected by what was happening in the simulation. As I hadn't taken my eyes off Jessica, I could see how, while she was distracted and looking away from him, Klaue ignored his broken bones, reaching into the back of his pants and retrieving an odd looking gun. It had a relatively short handle compared to the high, thick rectangular barrel that it was connected to and instead of having any visible ammo compartment, it had angular purple glowing lines all over its body._

 _Flashes from Shuri's memory that I gained when we accidentally mind-melded told me this was a sound-cannon of some kind, which could pulp a man's insides with a single shot. A powerful and gruesome weapon, and dangerous in the hands of a man like Klaue._

 _Sweat dripped down his brow as he bared his teeth in agony, dark stains of blood already spreading over his aged hoodie, but his biological arm still came up unerringly as he trained it square on Jessica, who was still occupied with swinging his makeshift bomb up into the air. Even though she wasn't flesh-and-blood in this state, that gun was powerful and I didn't want to find out what it'd do to her (or our children) if she got hit by it at such a short distance._

 _Despite this only being a replay, I still caught myself trying to move towards her. It didn't turn out to be necessary, because in his blind rage and pain, Klaue had focused completely on Jessica, forgetting one_ _ **crucial**_ _element._

 _She was the Ghost_ _ **Rider**_ _._

 _Before he could pull the trigger, Susan sprang forwards on her own accord (perhaps he had simply underestimated her intelligence or autonomy) without any input from Jessica, her flaming jaws closing around his remaining arm with a snap, the sound of sheared off flesh drowned out by the massive explosion overhead._

 _A violent jerk of her skull and Klaue was left a completely disarmed arms dealer._

 _His earlier hateful expression turned to one of pained horror as he looked at the smoldering stump that was all that remained of his last arm. With an agonized grunt, he slowly collapsed to his knees, his eyes turning dull and unfocused as the pain became too overwhelming for his mind to handle._

 _In the shocked silence that followed the explosion of his Last Laugh Jessica jumped off of Susan's back, her booted feet slamming into the red hot stones beneath her. The flames spilling from her empty eye sockets were locked on Klaue's defeated form as she slowly approached him._

 _Her skeletal hand closed around his neck as she effortlessly raised him up until he was on (figurative) eye-level with her, her skull somehow looking as if it were grinning, Klaue's toes scraping against the cobblestones as he weakly struggled in her grip._

" _ **Ulysses Klaue. You are responsible for Hell Week. I've come to exact Vengeance for all those who have died or been scarred by you and yours."**_ _She said as her jaw opened, but the voice that came spilling out was completely void of Jessica or any humanity at all, sounding like two slabs of granite sliding against each other._

 _Klaue's eyes slowly regained some clarity as he struggled to focus on the burning skull in front of him. As they locked gazes, flames exploded from the Ghost Rider's eye sockets, but Klaue merely gave a wide, tired smile, blood staining his teeth as he looked at his executioner without fear._

" _Ahh…_ _ **Now**_ _it's scary."_

" _ **Klaue… Look into my eyes."**_

" _No thanks. You're not my type."_

" _ **Silence. Suffer."**_

 _Even though I knew what would follow next, I was still slightly taken off guard when Klaue's eyes started to burn in his head, flesh bubbling and charring as the Ghost Rider kept up its stare. Impressively, Klaue managed to grit his teeth at first, even as more and more of his flesh was consumed by Hellfire. Lacking the arms to really struggle at all, he managed one final act of spite by suddenly and violently raising a leg, kicking Jessica square in the private parts._

 _The Ghost Rider stiffened for a moment, and I could tell by the ragged breathing of Klaue that it had let up in its stare for just the briefest of moments. Then, despite lacking any eyebrows, it seemed to frown deeply, baring its already exposed teeth as it leaned forwards and without warning, Hellfire bursts from Klaue's ruined eyes and open mouth as he let out a silent scream._

 _And then it was over. The Spirit's skeletal fingers loosened from Klaue's neck, leaving dark burn marks in his flesh and the corpse of Wakanda's most infamous thief sagged in on itself, falling back to its knees, head bowed and chest still._

 _Vengeance had been exacted on Ulysses Klaue._

 _The Ghost Rider stared down at its victim for a few moments before a shudder seemed to go through its body. It looked up at the still skeletal Susan and it seemed to be… softer, somehow. She made to turn away from the corpse at her feet, but then a beeping sound suddenly emanated from it. Turning back I could see her giving it an odd look, before her skeletal fingers grabbed at Klaue's baggy hoodie, tearing it open along the front._

 _As I had moved closer so that I was standing only a few feet to her left, I could see the same thing she did: strapped tightly against his chest and stomach (and presumably against his back as well) were flattened packets of C4, hitched up to what appeared to be a jury-rigged dead-man's switch._

 _And since Klaue was… well,_ _ **dead**_ …

" _Fuck." Jess and I said simultaneously and then there was a massive flash of light and an earth-shattering sound, though it paled in comparison to the Last Laugh._

 _As I wasn't_ _ **really**_ _here in this time, I was completely unaffected, though briefly I couldn't see anything due to the brightness of the explosion and the expanding ball of flame, force and dust that consumed everything in a thirty feet radius._

 _Still, while_ _ **I**_ _was unaffected, the same wasn't the true for those that were here when it happened._

" _JESS!" I roared, even though I knew it was useless as she couldn't hear future-mind-me looking in on what had then been her present._

 _Still, I hadn't needed to fear since I saw her (relatively) unharmed once the dust had cleared up a bit. The force of the explosion had lifted her off her feet and sent her flying backwards_ _ **into**_ _the restaurant, where she had crashed through the front window. Now she was lying upside down in the restaurant against the ledge underneath the window, with her lower legs and feet still dangling over the ledge to the outside._

"… _asshole."_

 _With those words, Jessica floated upwards and out of the building, shaking broken glass and rubble from her clothes. She gave a disgusted look at the various… bits of Klaue that were now spread all over the front of her body, before once again immolating herself in Hellfire, disintegrating the disgusting remnants._

 _Giving the small crater where Klaue had gone out on his own terms a dismissive glance, she gave Susan a pat on her thigh bone._

" _Susan? Burn."_

 _The T-Rex took a single step forwards as she opened her gargantuan jaws wide without a sound. The fire at her throat seemed to increase in brightness and volume, before with a roar it was expelled like a tsunami of Hellfire as it sped past her pointed teeth. Klaue's bits and remains were wholly engulfed by the meters long flame and Susan kept it up for roughly twenty seconds before she closed her jaws again with a snap._

 _All that was left were the blackened, broken molten remains of what was once a nicely cobbled part of the Grote Markt, a burn scar in the body of Brussels several meters long._

 _Of Klaue, absolutely nothing was left._

 _With a single jump, Jessica moved back to her spot at the base of Susan's neck, gripping her burning chain tight in her bone fist._

" _Just two left. Let's go."_

 _And with that a portal tore itself into existence and the burning woman and her T-Rex sped through it without a glance backwards._

 _There was a stunned silence (other than the insistent howling of the nearby car alarms) as people stared dumbfounded at where only moments before the mutilated remains of the infamous criminal had been spread across the terrace. I merely stared at the blackened spot for a few moments, my face impassive as I mentally reviewed the last moments of the man I had met almost two years ago now._

" _Well… at least you died as you lived. You were always a dick Klaue, but no one will ever say you were a coward."_

 _And with those final words, I raise my arm and allow the replay around me to fade away, returning my mind to my body in the present._

* * *

"Well? What happened here?"

Phineas' voice in my ear is the first thing I notice when I return to my own present, blinking my eyes somewhat of the odd sensation of me 'syncing up' with the rest of me. Sterns would go absolutely nuts experimenting with this.

"Pretty much what we expected. Klaue came here to die, intending to go down fighting. He had a bomb hidden in his rocket-propelled arm which exploded harmlessly, had a gun which was eaten together with his remaining arm by Susan and got his eyes burnt out of his skull after he kicked Jessica between the legs while the Spirit was doing the Penance Stare on him. Blew himself to bits after he died, so Susan burnt the… goopy bits that were left. Then they were off. Jessica mentioned they were going to go after the others, Sowande and the Mandarin."

"… wow."

"Yeah."

"How did you-"

"Mentally Time travelled."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"Of course it does." I muse as I flow higher in the air again.

As I told the people when I first arrived, emergency services were already on their way and with the building restored there really wasn't any reason for me to stay. It would be interesting to see who out of his multitude of contacts had supplied Klaue with that type of ordinance (personally my money was on Diamondback, considering the advanced tech level) but at this point it was more effort than it was worth to pursue it.

A quick memo to SHIELD and a comment to Phineas would mean people would look into it for me. Should it require my attention or that of the Hysminai, Phineas would let me know. Or I could just pawn it off on the Avengers, keep them nice and occupied while I go about my business.

Speaking of my business…

With the use of another portal, I return to Othrys and more specifically my office. Flopping down into my massive, reinforced office chair, I call up a row of screens with a flick of my wrist. There are various lists detailing ongoing projects, items that I wish to collect and people I want to talk to. Not all of them are on Earth, but before I can get to those, several things here need to be wrapped up first.

"Phineas. How far along is Oliver's new engine?"

"Suspected to be completely finished sometime this week. Selvig is fairly sure that with a bit more time and with help from Sterns and Radcliffe, he can give Oliver a FTL-engine, since he can combine his implanted Asgardian knowledge with the vast library Sterns brought back from Xandar and Sakaar. It won't be as smooth or easy as before with the Tesseract and he won't be able to teleport all over the place, but he should be able to perform interplanetary travel relatively easy. Not sure about interstellar, but that's somewhat of a non-issue since he can just reach the nearest Jump Gate and go from there."

"Very well. I know that Oliver's replacement engine has taken up much of Selvig's time, but Foster has all of his notes and equals him in intellect. How far along is she with building our own version of the Bifrost, now that the Tesseract will be available soon?"

"She says she'll need the Tesseract itself first before she can give us any hard estimates, but already the information on Sakaar's portals and Xandar's research into the function of the Jump Gates has helped her along immensely. She and Sterns actually recently published a paper on the manipulation of the Space-Time continuum that has… upset quite a few theoretical physicists. I hear several supersymmetry and string theory researchers got their funding pulled now that their entire field of work has been either made obsolete since aliens have already done the maths, or just shown to be completely incorrect."

"Well that's not entirely unexpected. Taking the scientific discoveries of civilisations far more advanced than ours back to our world was bound to have ripple effects throughout the scientific community as we're basically looking at a cheat sheet to some of the biggest questions we have thought of. Does everyone hate us now?"

"Well, astrophysicists are a bit split on the matter. On the one hand, they now have access to _far_ more accurate star charts and can actually look at the footage of stars that so far have either only been a smudge of pixels on their screens or a set of calculations in their computers. On the other hand, they feel like we've taken away the "thrill of the hunt". They're doing much the same as everyone else really: taking in what Othrys has revealed and trying to find a new place for themselves in this new scientific era we have ushered in."

I drum my thick fingers on the smooth desk in front of me for a few moments before I put the regular scientists of Earth out of my mind. I simply don't have the time to concern myself with them. Let's see, what else needs to be addressed before I can execute the final stages of my plan?

"Have we received word from Jiaying about a possible alliance between Afterlife and Othrys?"

"Skye passed the message along, she said her parents appeared to be very interested. Well, she said her dad was mostly just happy to finally get his hands on Whitehall, she wasn't entirely sure about her mom. Like I said, hard lady to get a read on. But she'll probably go for it. With demons and aliens not exactly… regarded fondly by humanity right now, she probably feels Inhumans could use a heavy hitter in their corner. Then there's Radcliffe and his research. He and Skye are close and his understanding of the Kree and thus the Inhuman's own history probably eclipses their own at this point. If I were to guess, Jiaying might even try to get us to _make_ more Inhumans for her."

"Hmmm. Depending on how our talks about forging an alliance end up turning out, I might just agree to that. Speaking of genetics, I know Hansen just left for Namibia with Dormer and Gill. I'll visit them shortly: I have business to attend to in Africa. However, this leaves only Burstein on the Celestial project. Any progress there?"

"Pretty much the same situation there as before, though he says he got the test results in from when you told him, Sterns and me that you weren't feeling well after your latest upgrade. He's ready to talk to you about it now if you want? You don't have to! I mean there's plenty of other stuff that needs your oversight. SpaceX has asked our help on a space elevator-"

I ignore Phineas' odd ramblings as I get up out of my chair, waving him off.

"No, it's fine. It's often better to address these kinds of things before they get too out of hand and become a genuine problem down the line. Is Sterns free right now?"

"... Sure. Yeah, right now he's… I'm not sure what he's doing but it doesn't really seem to be going very well. He just blasted _something_ apart with a high-intensity laser. Might want to check in on him."

Frowning, I open a portal to Sterns' laboratories, stepping through only to immediately duck to avoid a desk rapidly approaching my face. Straightening, I look around at the messy workshop straight out of a Mad Scientist's dreams as workbenches are covered in the most varied pieces of technology, gutted and disassembled machinery littering the place. Stern's wasn't the tidiest person ever, but this was excessive, even for him.

"Sterns? You alright there buddy?" I ask as I approach the scientist as he regards a large tank which contains a mixture of solutions with a frown on his face.

When he turns to me, I almost trip over myself as I see the depressed look in his eyes, though it's hidden so fast I almost think I imagined it.

"Ah, Michael. Yes, yes. I'm just having a bit of a problem with this little experiment. I was messing around with ways to combine research into clean, hydrogen-based fuel with a new hobby of mine: making clever puns."

I blink in surprise at his words and the contrasting serious tone he said them in.

"... Puns?"

"Yes. While Jessica's… _unique_ circumstances make it impossible to tell when she's due, it will probably be very soon. And, as Godfather to your children, it is my solid duty when you're-... It's my solemn duty to be as entertaining, yet still caring, as I can be to them. Like the Cool Uncle. So yes, puns."

"... alright. I think. So what's this… pun then?"

"Well, have a look at this equation and then you'll know." Sterns says with a grin (which just seems to be the slightest bit fake) as he turns towards me, a holographic screen popping to life above one of his Doc Ock arms.

"KOH + H2 = K + H2O?" I read aloud, glancing up at my friend with a questioning eyebrow.

"What does the reaction of Potassium hydroxide with hydrogen have to do with-"

"I'm trying to make this engine go bananas!" Sterns interrupts me with a wide grin.

"..."

"Get it? 'Cause the chemical reaction leaves you with Potassium? Which is common in bananas? And 'going bananas' is a phrase for going crazy? So this will be an engine that will make you go crazy fast on bananas!"

"... we need to get you outside more often."

I ignore Sterns' pout as I grab him by the shoulder and open a portal to Burstein's labs.

"Right, come along now. Noah said he had an update for meon what the fuck is happening to my body after my latest powerup."

Burstein is already waiting for us as we step through (Sterns giving a wistful look back at his pun-engine) but something is off. I can tell just by looking at him. Or more specifically, the way he _doesn't_ look at me.

"Now, Michael, before you ask _no_ , I haven't found a way to integrate the Celestial DNA into your own genetic template. Honestly, at this point I'm not sure it's possible. Celestial DNA is so advanced, yet subtle while your own is… well, it's anything but. It's a hack-job and as unsubtle as can be, completely mutilated to become something wholly different to its original. It's a small miracle, not to mention a testament to Sam's sheer genius, that you're not a puddle of goo-"

" _Noah_." I interrupt with a warning tone.

"Right, right. It's nothing you've never heard me say before. Multiple times even. Anyways, like I said, actually _incorporating_ Celestial DNA is unattainable, at least for the moment. _But_ , Celestial Flesh isn't! After gaining a better understanding of its genetics, I zoomed back out again and went back to our earlier experiments with the Seed itself and the way it deals with energy and mass! And I think I've found a way to influence those factors!"

And still refusing to properly look me in the eyes, Noah strides towards one of the walls, placing his palm flat against it. Almost immediately, parts of the wall slide away, revealing an opening through which emerges… a sleek looking high-tech sarcophagus? It's all silvery metal and the front is an opaque form of high-grade Amber Glass. Noah quickly presses the side of the coffin and the glass immediately clears to reveal…

' _Is that… is that a_ _ **Venom**_ _symbiote?!'_

After stepping closer for a better look, I realized my mistake, though it was understandable. Standing upright inside the coffin was a suit made from black fibers, tightly packed and corded, forming a very human-like shape, reminiscent of how Venom is usually portrayed, though without the iconic face or spider mark on its chest. If anything, it looked more like the Crysis suit, but reduced to a single layer of laminated muscle.

"Noah. What the hell am I looking at?"

"Well, this thing _should_ , in _theory_ be capable of leeching excessive amounts of energy from a person, and store it for later use, or dispel it safely on the spot. Well, I say _safely_ , but I really mean relatively safely for said person. The surrounding fifty meters will probably be turned to ash in such an event. It's a continuation of what Maya had in mind for house generators or nuclear waste scrubbers-"

I'm no longer listening, an odd, heavy feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. Things begin to fall into place: Phineas odd insistence on small-talk and distracting me with other projects. Sterns' messed up lab and his odd way of coping with his duties as Godfather. Noah's oddly morose attitude, refusal to look at me and this _highly_ specialized new project of his, _despite_ his own vehement restraints when experimenting with Celestial stuff.

" _Noah_."

My grave tone immediately shuts off his rambling and I can feel both him and Sterns slump, while Phineas remains conspicuously silent.

"What were my test results?"

I ask, even if I don't have to. Now that I'm actively paying attention to it, I can see the answer in their minds, despite (or more _because_ of) them trying their hardest not to think it.

"Michael, you need to understand that your body is unique. At this point, you'd probably classify as a different species to humans, so our projections could be-"

"What. were. my. test results." I slowly intone as I turn to look him square in the eye.

Noah can't hold my gaze for longer than a few seconds before he looks down at his shoes, so my eyes slide over towards Sterns. His face is morose as he looks back. We both know that we both know the answer, and yet I feel an irrational urge to hear him _say_ it. To make it more real, instead of this floating anxiety that it is now.

"Michael… you're dying."

The floor seems to fall away underneath my feet as I feel oddly weightless. I'm no stranger to dying, but this is… different. Permanent. Hearing my oldest friend of a couple years say it aloud… it hammers home to me that I've failed. My quest for more and more power… all that I have sacrificed for it, all that I have taken from others for it… all of that, and I hadn't even struck at Thanos. If anything, by collecting most of them on a planet ill-equipped to fend off attacks from a massive fleet in orbit, I've done the Mad Titan a favor.

As I lean against a wall for support, my breathing oddly loud in my ears, I recognize the irony of my situation. With my powerups, with the stockpile of weapons in my fortress, with my allies and more importantly, with three Infinity Stones on my person and another in my possession, I probably was already capable of killing Thanos at this point.

It would've been easy I realize, my mind lucid and far away as I go over scenarios that could've taken care of one of the greatest would-be murderers this universe will would have seen. A Rods of Gods delivery system using the Tesseract, or even the Time Stone. Build up infinite speed and pop it through a portal right in the heart of Sanctuary. Fuck it, mount the Power Stone on that thing and just eradicate that entire sector of space down to the last atom.

Sterns has put a hand on my shoulder and is saying something, but his words only register as static to me. Instead, in my mind's eye I can see exactly where I've gone wrong. Yes, omnipotence was my goal so that _nobody_ could ever hurt me. No man, no Titan, no God would ever hold power over me. But I got that goal confused with living beyond Thanos' Snap. In the earliest Steps of my Program, after taking the Gamma-enhanced Super Soldier Serum and the Extremis, I was already going to live for centuries. Plenty of time to obtain Omnipotence at a steady and calculated pace. All I needed to do to actually make use of those centuries was kill Thanos. Kill Thanos, then become omnipotent. I didn't need to first become omnipotent to then kill Thanos.

It's just that… for so long, for nearly twenty years, a single moment haunted my dreams every time I slept. A Titan raising a gauntleted hand, a snap which echoes throughout the universe and then a bright flash of white… and then _nothingness_. Ever since my second childhood, Thanos had been _the_ threat. More so than Ego, more so even than Dormammu.

My own fear had blinded me to the fact that he was still mortal. That even he could be beaten. Killed. And that fear now was going to cost me my own life.

… Jess… the children…

"How long?"

I refocus on Sterns' worried face.

"How long do I have?"

"Well, thankfully we don't have to worry about you dropping dead right now. As I said, that latest powerup was simply too much _energy_ to be contained within your body. There's just not enough room there anymore. It worked in Miss Danvers because that room was artificially created for it using Kree genetic engineering and even then we speculate most of it was suppressed for a long time so that her body could grow to accommodate it all. We already asked Radcliffe and he _might_ be able to do similar engineering on you, but like Burstein said, making further changes to your DNA, with your body being as it is right now, might do more harm than good. Especially considering the _second_ problem: the energy of the Light Dimension. It's constantly flowing into you, not in great amounts, but enough to be noticable. But there's nowhere for it to go. The best it can do right now is flow into your body, melding with your Chi, but your energy field is already taken up by the fusion of Jessica's powers and Captain Marvel's and your soul… well, let's not get into that. It's like forcing an ocean through a dammed river: there's just… too _much_."

"So? What's happening to me Sam?"

"You are… disintegrating. Very slowly, thankfully, we have your regeneration to thank for that. You probably weren't even aware of this, considering how often you set yourself on fire, but you're running a _massive_ fever Michael, even by Extremis standards. Your body is continually trying to repair the damage it is doing to itself… and slowly but steadily it's losing that battle. It might take months before it really starts to impair you. It might be weeks."

"Michael. The thing is… using your powers will rapidly accelerate the disintegration. You are already _literally_ overpowered in a dormant state. You don't even really _have_ a dormant state anymore, considering the fluctuations and random power spikes Phineas has been measuring ever since our appointment. There's a war going on in your body and by calling on either side, you only escalate it further."

' _Would you look at that. Seems the Light Dimension doesn't like sharing me.'_

"Your body is simply no longer designed for the amounts and types of energies you now contain. That's why I made _this_ , as a last-resort. It's still untested, so I _really_ don't want to put it on you unless utterly necessary. It's just as likely to feed off you as it is to save your life. _But_ , if you do end up powering up for whatever reason and the energy is threatening to spill over and explode you, then this should help. In _theory_. At the very least, it should give us enough time to come up with a solution." Noah explains.

I nod distractedly at his words, trying to find a solution myself. I discard one scenario after the other, but my mind keeps returning to a single one. I was already planning on trying it, seeing it as essential to the completion of my plan (mentally I whack myself over the head for thinking myself so clever for coming up with said overly convoluted, complex and dangerous plan in the first place) but it has just gained in priority.

I'm _not_ going to die. Not now, not when I have nearly accomplished my original goal. Not when I've realized I have ways of taking out Thanos in my arsenal. Not even when it's my own body trying to kill me this time.

I'm _not_ going to leave Jess a widow and my kids without a father.

"Phineas." I intone heavily as I straighten, a new determination visible in my eyes.

"Right here Michael." Phineas replies, somewhat subdued.

"Pause Oliver's replacement engine for now. I need him to take me somewhere. Contact Beta Ray Bill. Tell him I want an interstellar strike on Sanctuary. Considering Thanos murdered his people, he should be happy to oblige and considering the level of technology Korbin possessed, I'm counting on him being capable of contributing _significantly_ to knocking down Thanos' home. Have him coordinate with Radcliffe and cross reference with the databanks from Xandar and Sakaar. Sam, I want you on this project as well. Considering the stuff you've built, Thanos armies' won't even have the time to properly shit themselves."

Sterns nods at my words, clearly relieved to see me mentally back on my feet (or at least well enough to pretend).

"Very well. But where are you and Oliver going?"

"You told me my current body was insufficient, to the point I might need to rely on a bio-engineered life support suit that might _eat_ me. So, I'm fixing that, by ordering myself a new body."

"... what."

"I need to have a talk with the Dwarves of Nidavellir."

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Studios often attach codenames to projects to keep spoilers from coming out. Tom Hiddleston told the Guardian newspaper that the codename for the first Avengers film was "Group Hug."

 **AN:** Considering the non-Disney Star Wars stuff has been on a roll recently (the EA game, the Bioware Game and of course the Mandalorian) and with JJ Abram's attempt at fixing Ruin Johnson's mess soon arriving in cinemas, I figured I'd go with an SW-inspired title. I struggled with the flow of this chapter for a long time. I really wanted to finish up all the loose plot threads on Earth before neatly progressing to the next phase of the story, but instead of feeling like I was making progress with the plot, I instead felt bogged down instead. As if I was merely writing filler just for the sake of it. Since I actually _enjoy_ world building and so far have always seen it as a _challenge_ when the story forces itself to slow down or divert from my original intentions because of in-universe rules and logic, this time I just felt… tired and frustrated, really. For me, this is a sign that this story needs to come to an end. I'm no longer enjoying writing it and exploring the setting as I used to. Things have naturally progressed to the point that now less is more. The plot has reached it's endgame so slowing the story down makes no structural sense at this point. That's why parts of this feel rushed, but now Michael has a legitimate reason to charge forwards as well instead of being stuck in a delegating role. I hope this will keep the story going and feel more 'fresh'. So yeah, expect far "leaner" chapters in the futures with far more focus on plot progression than world/character exploration. Thanks for your patience, I know many of you have been waiting a long time for the next update.


	56. Winter (Soldier) is coming

_**Winter (Soldier) is coming**_

* * *

 **May 11** **th** **2013**

I had long ago considered that there was a real chance my body wouldn't be able to keep up with the enhancements I wished to gather. I'm surprised it had held out this long in the first place to be honest. I had Sterns' genius and the aid of the Think Tank to thank for that. But I had always known it couldn't last, which is why I had gone after Arnim Zola's secrets last year. The technology had allowed me to save Phineas, but it had also been a test-run of sorts. It had shown me how to replicate, and even improve upon, Zola's methods of cheating death. Transferring his essence from one vehicle to the next.

Now that I knew how to do it, it was time to use that technology on myself.

So, I had the failing body, I had the means for the perfected essence transfer (both technologically _and_ magically) but I still needed a suitable receiver.

It's base powerlevel and potential for energy containment and absorption had to surpass my current body or I could repeat this whole song and dance every five years or so. Meaning it would be _very_ difficult to actually build, which is why I wanted to hire the Dwarves in the first place. I had also considered the golden people of Sovereign, but I was somewhat more hesitant in approaching them. I knew what triggers and pressure points I could use on the Dwarves, but I wasn't entirely sure on what I could use to bribe the Sovereign.

In all likelihood, they'd either want my DNA or, if they got greedy, one of the Infinity Stones. Not exactly a trade I'm comfortable with to say the least. Still, their skill was undeniable and their firewalls damned impressive, meaning that Sterns hadn't been able to remotely plunder their stores of information on bio-augmentation and genetic manipulation during our little trip through space. This meant that, should the Dwarves prove more stubborn than expected, the Sovereign were my second choice.

My third choice were the Kree. Sure, they were a bunch of intergalactic assholes, but their skill and experience with altering the human genome was well proven. Additionally, through Radcliffe's research I had a relatively decent grasp on their overall technology (which was steadily being incorporated into Othrys and slowly trickled down to the general masses) so hopefully I'd be able to catch them should they decide to screw me over. Not to mention, there was a currently helpless bargaining chip still stuck on my planet which I could offer them should it be necessary.

 _Miss_ Danvers (no longer Captain as she was dishonourably discharged from the Air Force after our little spat on the day of Natasha's funeral broke the news) had been lying low ever since. _Very_ low. Phineas had kept an eye on her these past two days, even where SHIELD didn't think anyone could look and it didn't paint a pretty picture. For hours after Carter and Rogers got her bundled up in one of SHIELD's safehouses, the burnt woman was nearly catatonic, simply staring at her trembling hands, even as Carter cleaned her off in the shower and got her a new set of clothes. The blond had been under suicide watch on insistence of Rogers, who had been shooting her oddly understanding looks.

It's probably not the first time he's seen a soldier break.

His gut feeling was proven correct: Danvers had to be restrained and sedated two times now. Given it's only been two days since she lost her powers (probably the most traumatic thing to happen to her since she actually _got_ those powers) it was impossible to say how and if she would recover, but Rogers seemed to have faith in her, if the long hours spent at her bed side were any indication.

I got the feeling Carter wanted to be there for the hurting woman as well, but she probably felt too guilty to truly approach her in such a manner. After all, it was her and Fury's paranoia that had led to Danvers' confrontation with me. Sure, it had been fuelled and approved by various people of varying levels of morality within the Government and sure, Fury had paged Danvers the moment demons started popping up in Central Park, so it probably would've been inevitable that Captain Marvel would've ended up on Earth at some point, which meant that it was also inevitable that she and I would end up butting heads eventually.

Still, Carter had been the one who had raised her suspicions about my true motives (which were... _almost_ correct) with the superhuman and now every time she visited said woman, she was met with the broken remains of what might have been the strongest human in the galaxy for the past three decades.

That shit can weigh heavily on your conscience. I should know.

It was the power of said human that led to my current problem. Tremendous amounts of energy contained into a too small package, but the sheer level of power and my own metaphysical mantle as a Lord of Light meant that the energy of a different dimension also kept wanting to seep into said package. Right now, my own body was acting as a sort of plug against the influx of Light Dimension energy, but if I should power up that connection would grow wider, like tearing open a fraying hole in a sweater or something, allowing more and more energy to pour through.

So, if I powered down again, there was even _more_ energy being squeezed into a too small package and the tear to the Light Dimension being widened meant that the plug didn't fully work and even more energy could keep pouring in.

There were some measures I could take to help ease my problems. One was periodically using the Time Stone on myself, turning back my body to the moment I just took Captain Marvel's energy, but this didn't actually do anything to solve the core issue, it just reduced the symptoms. I didn't want to turn back Time even further to before I took said energy for two reasons.

One: I didn't know what would happen to the energy if I did. Presumably, it would find its way back into Danvers' body, which might end up problematic. I had drained her dry of her personal reservoirs of power, but the wellspring from which that power came still existed. It was entirely possible that, even if only trickles of said power had returned to her, if I were to instantly return all of the energy that I had taken to her currently very frail body it would prove too much for her to handle and she'd go... splat. That, or perhaps even worse, it _didn't_ make her go splat which would send a fully powered up and messed up Captain Marvel coming after my ass _again_.

Considering that exchange had led to me inadvertently slowly blowing up my own body, I wasn't really keen to repeat that whole song and dance.

Two: I was loathe to give up such a massive boost in power. It was difficult to quantify how strong I was right now, but I knew that I had been roughly on the same level as Thor and the Hulk before I stole Captain Marvel's power. The combination of Extremis and Gamma-enhanced Erskine formula probably already put me at the low ranges of that vague tier in sheer strength. The Amber Armor enhancement (a perfected version of what Luke Cage had been given in prison) had given me an additional boost in strength, though relatively minor. Perhaps I could lift roughly a ton more at the highest estimate? The biggest benefit of that had been to my durability, which was insanely high. Luke Cage could shrug off high-calibre gunfire without even flinching: I'm pretty sure I can do the same with a _tank shell_. Combine that with my frankly insanely high regeneration and even the little damage I received wouldn't last for very long. Then there was Jessica's field. In her, it had allowed a slip of a woman to lift about 25 times her own bodyweight without much strain. In _me_ , with the Heart-Shaped Herb making sure everything was playing nice and operating at maximum efficiency, that was pushed to nearly 40. Considering that before that I could easily bench press multiple tons, and after that enhancement I was fairly certain I could go toe to toe with Thor, if he isn't using Raiden-mode and I'm not using my Chi.

But this? This new power _alone_ was capable of similar feats. Combined with the rest of me... well, I'm fairly sure that any fist fight between me and Thanos at this point will mirror his brawl with the Hulk in the opening of Infinity War, just with him knocked out flat at the end of it intead.

However, since I can't safely access most of that power I can't ask Oliver to drop me off at Sanctuary in order to have it out with my personal bogeyman for these past twenty years. New body first, purple ass-kicking later.

So, what did I need for my new body?

The Dwarves are good, they are better than good even, they are literally _the_ best in the entire universe. But at their core, they are blacksmiths. I have little doubt that they can fashion a Vision-like body for me, but for a full transference of my essence and powers, a little extra oomph is needed, especially on the biological side of things.

I already had the Particle Infusion Chamber, now I just needed to combine it with Cho's Cradle. This would allow the Dwarves to create a Vibranium template which could then be subsequently infused with powers, like with Gravitonium. The body would be based off my current DNA, allowing for Extremis/Gamma-enhanced Erskine formula/Jessica Field powers/Heart-Shaped Herb enhancement. I could probably also relatively safely incorporate Celestial and Asgardian DNA by that point too. By turning the PIC/Cradle combination into a tank filled with Amber Armor enhancement, the new body would have Amber Armor enhancement as well and then there are several strengthening spells (taken both from the Sanctums and Randolph's Asgardian knowledge) as well. It's highly likely that my Chi will transfer with me, and if not I'm going to infuse the building blocks of my new body with my Chi beforehand anyways, much like I did with Phineas' phylactery and my own armor pieces.

That was the plan, so I just needed to get the required materials.

Cho and Hall were on their way, so I'd get access to their research soon enough. I'd like to speed things along, but scientists on their level were quite ornery and if I pushed them too hard they might end up deciding not to come to Othrys.

The waves-, no, the _tsunamis_ we were making in the scientific community by publishing (parts of) our research and our discoveries from outer space meant that not everyone liked us. Especially the old elite, who didn't really appreciate being knocked off their pedestal and being left in the dust by us. Sure, the majority of the scientific community would give up an arm and a leg for a chance to work at Othrys, but most of them were young or engaged in big, adaptable research fields or wanted to make strides in the entirely new ones Othrys had introduced over the years.

Naturally, this doesn't really have much appeal to those who already have spent their entire lives dedicated to a single subject which now has either become obsolete, irrelevant or even worse, proven wrong.

Cho and Hall were definitely part of the 'old' elite of renowned geniuses. However, Cho's ideas were beyond the technology available to her before Othrys and Wakanda entered the world stage, so she was fairly pleased with coming to work for me as long as I gave her sufficient equipment and didn't bother her _too_ much.

Hall was a slightly different case. Six years ago, a peer review on one of his papers regarding theoretical applications of Gravitonium in modern applications and scientific fields had called him "absolutely brilliant, if not exactly on the same page as reality."

In short, Hall's obsession with a material so rare most people agreed it didn't exist outside of mathematic simulations had caused him to be ridiculed, but the sheer brilliance behind said mathematics had also caused for grudging respect. This had rubbed Hall the wrong way, being stuck on the fringes of the scientific community for so long, even though everyone agreed that if he actually focused on _real_ science he'd have a real shot at a Noble Prize even and the man had developed an obsession with Gravitonium.

In his mind, if he could just get his hands on the stuff, then all of his previous work previously labelled as "genius, but whacky make-belief" would end up solely being labelled " _genius_ ". Of course, in the canon time-line he _literally_ got his hands on the stuff, and then some, but that shouldn't be a problem in Othrys.

In addition to Phineas keeping an eye on things, my fortress was probably one of the few superscientist bases that actually obeyed all OSHA regulations. There's _very_ little chance of the (admittedly annoying at times) man falling into the weird goop on _my_ watch.

Getting my hands on Cho and Hall would take care of the PIC/Cradle side of things, but there was still the matter of what my body would be built from. The base of it would be Vision-like, and though I had some additional ideas on what to incorporate into it, that still meant I'd need a _lot_ of Vibrianium.

And my personal stores were running low.

 _Very_ low.

Between the amounts I needed for my Aurelion Armor and armaments and the amounts needed in various parts of Othrys' construction and the stuff that was requisitioned by some of my Think Tank...

At this point, I'm pretty sure I have about enough left for a whole... left foot.

So, the last material needed was Vibranium, which would mean paying a visit to Erik back in Wakanda.

Additionally, there were two things that I want to have finished up here on Earth before I visit Nidavellir. I don't know how long it'll take me to convince the Dwarves, nor how long actually building my new body is gonna take them, assuming I can convince them in the first place. With all the discussions surrounding the fight between me (and thus Othrys) and Captain Marvel (and thus the US Government and to a lesser extent the UN as well) having barely died down, I'd like to leave behind some stability before I leave.

The first thing that needs to be resolved is Jessica's situation with the Ghost Rider. I need to free her and get her and the kids back in Othrys where they're safe in case... in case the whole new body idea doesn't pan out. I'm _not_ leaving them in the claws of a demonic spirit for any longer than absolutely necessary. One of the requirements for that is having a new host ready for the Spirit so he'll leave Jessica without raising a fuss and harming her or the children. And I have just the guy in mind for that.

The second thing that needs to be resolved is the aftermath of my clash with the Government's latest attempt at exerting some measure of control over me. When I went to go steal away the Ancient One from the UN, I had been chatting up one sleazy politician after the other and by now all the paperwork should be close to finish to enact the last stage of that particular little plan. I'll probably string it along until I have had a look at Hall's research in Gravitonium and its applications, but I could push it though earlier depending on how the other situations would develop.

As I sit in the dark in my office, my face barely illuminated by the soft glow coming from several of my holographic monitors hovering over my massive desk, I rest my chin on my fist as I contemplate on what to act first.

' _Cho and Hall will resolve themselves, they are already on their way so I'll deal with them once they arrive. That leaves Killmonger and Jessica. I_ _ **want**_ _to help Jess out first, more than anything. But without a replacement host, there's not really much I can do there other than stomping her enemies. And I don't give a shit about them, I just want Jess and the kids back, meaning that even if it might be cathartic, it won't_ _ **help**_ _. Best I can do for her is get a replacement host ready as soon as possible. Killmonger can wait. He'll try to drag things out and stall, but I should get my hands on the Vibranium I need within a day, two max. So: replacement Ghost Rider first, helping Jess second, twisting Erik's arm third.'_

Plan finalized, I stand up giving a lazy wave of my hand, causing the screens to immediately shut off. Overhead, hidden lights rise to a soft glow as I walk out of my office, allowing the vault-like door to fall shut behind me as I make my way to my bedroom in contemplative silence.

Shrugging on my pyjamas, I flop down on the massive bed, clasping my hands over my straining chest as I stare at the ceiling. I remain in that position for roughly half an hour, my eyes staring blankly ahead as sleep keeps evading me. Slowly, I turn my head to the left, to the empty side of the bed... to Jessica's side. For long moments I simply look at the empty pillow beside me in complete silence as I wait for sleep to _finally_ come. In the end, as the shadows begin to lengthen unnaturally, unseen things creeping closer to my bed with flickering teeth and maddened eyes, a hushed chittering on the edge of my hearing, I give up.

Flexing my telepathy, I knock myself out.

It has been a week now in which I have not truly slept.

* * *

 **May 12** **th** **2013 23:08**

As I was sitting on a couch that was very nearly groaning underneath my weight in the dark, I resisted the urge to check the time. Yes, my target was late, but only by a few minutes: nothing out of the ordinary. Additionally, I had asked Phineas to have a subroutine keep an eye on the man and nothing he'd seen had indicated the target being aware of how... badly tonight was going to turn out for him.

Sure enough, my AI was proven correct when I heard a car pull up into the driveway. Keeping silent, I heard the engine shut off, the car door open and close, keys sliding smoothly into the front door as unseen security measures powered down, the door opening and closing, footsteps leisurely making their way to the living room/kitchen combination that I was waiting in...

Several lights in the ceiling and above the kitchen counter lit up as the man remained completely unaware to my presence, softly humming to himself as he loosened his tie. With a soft sigh the man grabbed a bottle of scotch off the cooking island, walking up to a cabinet and easily rummaging through it in search of a glass.

I was somewhat disappointed to be honest: from what I knew of the man, he was incredibly dangerous and adept at thinking on his feet. For him to completely miss me like that... well he was aging I suppose and-

My eyes briefly widen in surprise as a hot slug of metal flattens itself against the dead centre of my forehead. I don't even budge though, merely tilting my head forwards, allowing the deformed metal to peel off and fall into my open palm.

Slowly, a grin stretches across my face, before I glance up at the shooter from the corner of my eye, satisfaction welling up inside me when I see him pale in fright when it _truly_ registers with him who he just shot in the head.

"And here I was beginning to wonder if that old, grandfatherly facade you always put up might have more truth to it than I had realized. Good evening, Mister Pierce." I say lazily as I rise to my full height, my head nearly brushing the ceiling.

Said Hydra-leader unintentionally takes a half step back from me as I slowly approach him, glancing down at the Desert Eagle still sitting heavily in his hand. With a sigh (and I just _barely_ caught the sight tremble in his voice), he puts the useless iron on the counter behind him. He gazes longingly at the bottle of scotch, clearly wondering whether or not he should've gone for a glass instead of a gun.

He reaches towards it, but by then I step into his personal space, positively _looming_ over the short man, who cranes his neck as he looks up at my shadowed face, only my devilishly glowing eyes visible, staring back down at him. My enormous hand fully encloses his brittle wrist, halting his fingers mere inches from the smooth amber liquid, though not gripping hard enough to hurt.

Looking from the hand that's holding onto him to the hellish eyes above him, Pierce manages to swallow once, his voice coming out soft and painfully resigned.

"No?" he asks, and again the tremble is just _barely_ audible and if it weren't for my senses I'd probably have missed it entirely.

Commendable composure, considering we both know how this night is going to end for him.

I smile again, but it's a terrifying sight, completely void of any warmth and humor. With just the barest amounts of force, I twist my hand holding his wrist, until his own palm is facing up. I allow the flattened bullet to drop into his waiting hand and Pierce doesn't quite manage to hold back a wince as the hot metal falls onto his aged skin.

I squeeze slightly harder and his eyes flick back up to meet my own again and their glow intensifies just slightly.

"No." I answer, letting go of his hand.

Pierce takes a deep breath at that, emotions storming inside of his mind. Outwardly however, he merely gives a nod, slipping the bullet in his pants pocket, before he straightens somewhat. He tugs on his sleeves, checking his cufflinks before he tightens his tie again and squares his shoulders.

"Very well." He says softly and without my prompting, the man walks in front of me, leading me out of his house, ready to die.

"Where to then? I assume you're not going to leave any remains behind?" he says, affecting a nonchalant tone even as his tumultuous thoughts betray him to my senses.

I step up beside him, resting my shovel-sized hand on his left shoulder, exerting just the slightest amounts of force.

"Not for me to decide." I rumble softly, allowing my amusement to clearly leak through in my voice.

This guy has been a hidden thorn in my side for far too long. Never high up enough my list of priorities to immediately deal with as something else was always popping up that demanded my immediate attention instead. But never harmless, never content to abide to the new status quo. Culminating in the latest fiasco with Captain Marvel and now my subsequently looming death.

That whole "she's not Air Force, she's on loan as a high level SHIELD agent"-bullshit line Carter came up with? Pierce's idea. He was the one who pulled the necessary strings to keep their entire scheme just barely on the side of legal. Not that it really mattered in the end, between the public's outrage, my own power and the fact that the higher-ups in the Government barely even acknowledges the existence of their own laws in pursuit of whatever it is they set their sights on.

In addition to having had a hand in that whole mess, Pierce was just an evil son of a bitch, considering his role in the Winter Soldier's enslavement and the sadistic glee that he derived from using him as his personal attack dogs against his enemies, both outside and inside of Hydra.

There had been people in my home universe that had been utterly sick and tired of Bucky after the events of Civil War and the rift he caused between the heroes. I had always been ambivalent towards him. Sure, he had been one of Hydra's greatest weapon and in that role had done plenty of evil acts, but I didn't feel like that could be lied entirely at his feet.

It's hardly like he had a choice in the matter after all.

He definitely had to atone for it though. Blood of that magnitude doesn't just wash off, as I know from experience. Luckily for him, I have just the thing.

A flick from my wrist calls a portal into existence, the roof of a building visible on the other side. I quickly step through, Pierce following my lead (not that he has much of a choice, considering I'm still keeping an iron grip on his shoulder), gravel crunching underneath our shoes as the portal falls shut behind us.

"... where-?"

"Don't recognize it? Allow me to jog your memory: Ideal Federal Savings Bank mean anything to you?"

Pierce's eyes widen in shock and if possible he pales even further.

"Ah... I see." He mutters softly as I lead him over towards the door leading to the lower levels.

The door is locked of course and hooked up to alarms, but I barely pause in my stride.

"Phineas. Lights out."

"You got it Michael. All systems dark... now!"

He's barely done speaking before I grasp the handle and brute-force the door open without any effort whatsoever, still dragging Pierce with me. It's a matter of minutes before we've descended all the stories of the building, reaching the basement and maintenance level. Again, a heavy steel door bars our way and again I barely even acknowledge the lock keeping it closed, slamming it open without care or effort.

I can _feel_ Pierce's surprise as my feet unerringly lead us towards the hidden partition in one of the solid looking concrete rooms at the far end of the room filled with equipment and machinery. The feeling is quickly replaced by resignation as some of his suspicions are confirmed: someone high up in Hydra's hierarchy has spilled their secrets. He's wrong in who turned and how I got the information, but it hardly matters and I don't bother correcting him.

Instead, I lightly press the hidden indentation that allows the fake wall to slide away. Behind it, there's a short corridor with several sharp turns. It leads into a square room filled with safe boxes, a massive machine in the centre while a second one sits tucked away in the corner. There's only five people milling about, three of which seem military and the remaining two obviously scientists. All of them look up sharply in surprise when Pierce and I stride into the room. The three meatheads immediately snap up their guns, trained square on my centre mass. Not even giving them the opportunity to react and wanting to get this over with, I whip out my free arm in a wide arc, something metallic soaring through the air in concert with my motions. Faster than a speeding bullet, it closes in on the left-most Hydra goon, before the blur enlarges to its regular size and _Harpe_ slides through his torso with the ease of cutting through a sheet of paper. Before the two parts of the ex-Nazi's body have even hit the ground, it continues on its arc with blinding speed, slicing through the remaining two guards with equal ferocity and speed.

At the end of its arc, it briefly shudders to a stop in mid-air, before it whips back towards my open palm, smacking into my hand hard enough there's a brief displacement of air at the impact, the Asgardian Berserker runes lighting up in concert with the hellish glow in my eyes as I relish in the usual flood of strength that accompanies wielding my weapon.

A little _too_ much, I realize as Pierce lets out a chocked off gasp as my fingers start digging into his frail shoulder. I ease my grip, calming myself down again as the runes on _Harpe_ fade away into dull embers, before with a deft flick of my hand it's returned to miniature size and cleverly hidden up my sleeves, not to dissimilar in appearance to how Loki and Hela summon their daggers and swords respectively.

I briefly check my strength, making sure that I'm not about to tear Pierce's arm off by accident.

He's not mine to kill, after all.

"Oh God... oh, _fuck_... fucking shit, oh fuck me-!"

Hearing the fearfully muttered words, my attention drifts back to the remaining scientists who are staring at me with wide frightened eyes. I lock eyes with the one on the right, the one who's muttering as he sinks to his knees. Calling upon the might of the Mind Stone slotted in my helmet (carefully folded and shrunken away into a Bluetooth-like attachment behind my ear much like Quill's helmet) I strike out at the scientist's mind with brute force. I don't bother digging deep, not caring about his personal history or anything like that. I simply rip out everything Hydra-related, add it to my stores of existing knowledge and then repeat the process with the other scientist.

They hardly have any scientific knowledge I don't already possess in spades, but at least they're knowledgeable about the Memory Suppressing Machine and Bucky's current condition and past medical records. The Machine was designed by Zola, meaning I already had blueprints and had been perfected by Whitehall who (as one of the few remaining contemporaries of Zola and Red Skull) had been fascinated with the theory behind his colleagues' machinery.

Of course, through him and the research of Kilgrave parents, my own Mind Control Tech was itself a generation or two more advanced than what they had here, being more complete, harder to break and easier to administer.

Meaning that, other than some details regarding Bucky's current mental and physical health, these two particular Nazi scientists were of no use to me. However, considering they were drooling onto the harsh concrete floor, I hardly needed to deal with them myself.

I let go of Pierce's shoulder, my telepathy and telekinesis at the ready, wondering if he'll try to make a break of it and ready to foil his attempt should he be foolish enough to try. Interestingly enough, while the thought of escape _does_ briefly cross his mind, he ultimately decides against it, concluding correctly from what he's seen me do to his colleagues here that he won't even make it beyond three paces before he's cut down.

As much as I dislike him on every possible level, I have to admit it takes balls to just stand there and not fidget as you watch the strongest being on the planet wake up your executioner.

Which is incidentally literally as easy as pushing a button on the side of his Cryostasis Chamber. There's a great flow of steam as the cover lifts away, drugs steadily pumping through tubes feeding into ports on Bucky's back, waking him up and counteracting the negative effects from the stasis. Steve had Erskine's perfected formula, allowing him to go into stasis in temperatures higher than what the Cryostasis Chamber operated at, while also allowing him to come out of it without ill effect, even if it took a little while.

Bucky however didn't have Erskine's formula. Hydra put _something_ in him, that's for sure, considering he could fight Steve on relatively even footing. But between his lessened enhancements, the far colder temperatures of the Cryostasis Chamber and the need to be awoken and ready _immediately_ meant that there was a slew of drugs, stimulants and health packs needed to wake up the Winter Soldier as the freezing cold dissipated.

Of course, what this meant was that he was combat ready from the moment he regained awareness, his eyes snapping open and finding mine on eyelevel, despite his elevated position inside of the Chamber.

I briefly have a Déjà-vu to when I first awoke the other Winter Soldiers and I almost have to laugh when once again I'm immediately attacked without warning. Bucky is somewhat more fortunate than the Soldier I fought in Siberia however. First off, I don't really want to hurt him too bad. I don't really need him to like me or anything, but things will go much smoother if he doesn't see us as enemies. Secondly, his first impulse is to strike out with his metallic arm, sending the steel-alloy knuckles crashing into my chin.

There's a loud _clang!_ at the impact, but... nothing else, really. I barely even budged, even as the servos in his arm give a distressed whine as he tests his strength against mine. Before he can shift his forwards leaning position into a solid kneestrike at my solar plexus and really hurt his organic parts, I shoot forwards, one hand on his rising knee, holding it back without crushing it, while my other hand slaps into the centre of his chest, pushing him back against the padded inner wall of the Chamber.

Before he can truly begin to struggle, I force my way into his mind.

...

 _Holy shit_ , this place is _fucked_ up. I thought Captain Marvel's was a mess, being a stapled together mix of the bits that had been the Kree soldier Vers and the human soldier Carol, but in her at least the original damage had been very refined. Editing and pasting, taking the original baseline and twisting it to whatever needs the Kree had for her.

Bucky... is more like a vase that was smashed to bits, and only parts were taken back to be glued to a cast iron skillet, while the other parts were thrown away. Again and again and _again_. At his core he's still Bucky, there's not much Zola's mind control could do to truly erase _everything_ he ever was in order to turn him into a blank slate, which is what would have allowed him to recognize Steve and slowly regain his humanity.

But burying those last tortured vestiges is just a mess of scars and trauma, layer after layer almost like sedimentary deposit. Those Hydra assholes... they broke him down into nothing, twisted him into whatever they needed him for and then tore him down to pieces all over again. Chains, cuts, bruises and just _gaps_ crisscrossed every single part of his mental sense of self and of the world.

They had _enslaved_ him, in the most horrid way imaginable. Obedience was all he knew, all that they allowed him to know.

I thought that, between my own efforts in enslaving the other Winter Soldiers, the help I had given to Alisa as she tried to recover from her own mental issues and my brief experience rooting through Danvers' brain would've allowed me to just... tear away whatever fucked up shit Hydra had done to his mind, allowing his original personality to resurface on its own.

This whole mess however, was clearly going to take me some more time.

Luckily, I have just the thing for that.

Not losing the connection between our minds, I clasp the insides of my wrists to each other twice, palms forwards and fingers curled in, before I move them counter-clockwise. And emerald glow lights up at my throat, and Time around us goes... blurry.

It was something similar to what I had Pangborn do during the Chitauri Invasion in order to preserve my new Space Whale Familiar, just on a much smaller scale and instead of stopping time inside the bubble, I sped it up. Or rather, I slowed down the outside of the bubble. I think. It's rather subjective.

What mattered was that hours could pass between me and Bucky, while only a minute would go by from Pierce's perspective. Hours that I immediately put to good use. First up was excising everything Hydra hat put _in_. The mental activation codes, the therapy, the conditioning, I tore it all out and threw it away. I worked quite roughly for the most part, except in those areas where Hydra had tied some of their mind control torture shit very close together with the original parts of Bucky. They had taken his loyalty (as a person towards his friends and as a soldier towards his superiors) and twisted and hammered it long enough until it became slavish obedience to whoever held his leash.

That took quite some more time and effort to unfuck before I could remove the Hydra influence without taking away even _more_ of what remained of Bucky Barnes. This went on for nearly an hour, or perhaps slightly more (it's hard to tell), before I move on to stapling Bucky's mind back together. Right now, it's a gaping, bleeding mess (metaphorically speaking) so if I don't want him going catatonic the moment I disconnect our minds, he'll need to be somewhat repaired if he ever wants to have a chance at rebuilding himself.

He'll never fully heal from this: too much has been damaged or simply lost in its entirety for the man Bucky once was to ever come back.

But this at least should allow him to regain his sense of self and his autonomist, becoming a free man instead of Hydra's slave, much like he had eventually managed to in the canon timeline. I didn't erase his remaining memories though. As much as his evil acts weren't his fault, he still committed them and he'll have to atone for them.

Starting right now, I decide, letting the Time bubble fade away as I pull back out of Bucky's mind. As I do, his eyes snap open as he lets out a breathless gasp, his pupils widely contracting and dilating for a few moments as his mouth opens and closes several times. Then I hear something flex violently inside of his body and immediately step to the side. And not a moment too soon, as Bucky stumbles out of the Cryostasis Chamber onto his hands and knees and violently tries emptying his stomach. Only bile comes out, and as he tries to work himself back to his feet with shuddering, jerking motions, I hand him a water bottle that one of the scientists had standing on his desk.

He barely even acknowledges me, gratefully gulping down the water, though he still has the presence of mind not to drink _too_ fast so he doesn't end up throwing it all up again later. Even then, it takes him less than a minute to finish the bottle, letting it fall to the floor as he lays eyes on the metal hand that had been holding said bottle.

With rapid breaths, he opens and closes the artificial limb several times, experimentally rotating his wrist to and fro before curling it, watching the plates of his bicep slide smoothly over each other. For all that Zola was an evil little troll that should've been smothered in his crib, I had to admit that his work on Bucky's arm was phenomenal. Of course, I had long since used the blueprints for said arm and given them to Radcliffe.

Each arm that Bucky had been outfitted with (this was number eight) had cost roughly between 12 and 16 million dollars to create, with major repairs usually coming in at around 4 to 6 million. That was mostly due to the materials involved, the ridiculously advanced neural network inside and the various actuators and energy cells, with each individual part years ahead of its time and frightingly expensive to make.

Not that much of a problem for Hydra, given their ridiculously deep pockets and penchant of simply taking whatever they wanted instead of properly paying for it, but it hardly made it a good template for mass-produced prosthetics.

Of course, _I_ had similarly deep pockets, as well as a scientist whose engineering skill matched Zola's even _before_ I had enhanced his intellect. It had taken Radcliffe months to find a way to switch out the materials and internal technologies to more affordable alternatives, several months more to find a way to make it mass-producable and then yet again a few more months to improve upon it.

Othrys' specialized, custom-fitted prosthetics had hit the market shortly before Hell Week began, sporting light-weight materials, full range of motion, and a synth-skin sleeve that provided a limited sense of touch. Radcliffe, being the transhumanist that he was, hadn't been content with merely making a replacement human part and had insisted he improve upon it, which is why the arms were all equipped with their own inbuilt smart device, complete with screen and Bluetooth connectivity.

On top of all _that_ , they were even environmentally friendly.

They were cool as shit, and the sheer amount of money they were making me was enormous, even if it paled in comparison to some of my other projects (like the radiation scrubbing one), though I couldn't help a slight feeling of melancholy whenever I noticed the huge spike in orders after Hell Week. The massive amount of orders for child-sized prosthetics didn't really help either.

Still, they were doing a lot of people a lot of good and it all started with the prosthetic currently being studied by wide, disbelieving eyes in front of me. Should Bucky's guilt prove overwhelming, maybe pointing out what the designs of his arm had ended up accomplishing could help ease that guilt. For now though, there was another method available.

"W-what... what is... _this_? My h-head?" The Winter Soldiers muttered, squeezing his eyes shut and grasping at his temple with his organic hand, flashes of broken memories swirling and roaring throughout his damaged mind, none of them pleasant.

"Bucky Barnes. You were on a mission with the Howling Commandos and Captain America: Steve Rogers."

At the name of his brother in all but blood, Bucky's eyes snap towards mine, completely fixated on me.

"You fell." I continue, and by the flash of pain on his face and the way he screws his eyes shut, I can tell he remembers those final moments on the train and his subsequent awakening. That, and I could literally _see_ said memory as well.

Mind Stone for the win.

"Hydra has taken you. _Enslaved_ you. You've been fighting for a _long_ time now, soldier. Sad to say, you've been fighting for the enemy." I elaborate, and the various assassinations he has been forced to commit flash before his eyes, all throughout the decade, until they land on one in particular.

The rumble of a motorcycle, a snowy road in the middle of the woods, a crashed car and the pained mumblings of a woman's voice.

Bucky stumbles towards one of the desks the scientists had been working at, leaning heavily on it as one trembling hand comes up to his temple again, tears shining in his wild eyes.

"No... H-Howard... not Howard..." he softly mutters in a small, utterly _broken_ voice, and I can't help but feel bad for him.

"For almost seventy years, Hydra has been abusing you, Bucky. Enslaved you and used your skills for their own miserable purpose. Most of your handlers are dead by now though: either the job or just old age. But, one of the most recent ones is _right_ _here_. And _his_ people still survive. They still long for the evil they have been forcing you to commit for so very long. Wouldn't you like for it to stop? To stop all this pain? To stop having them torture you, strip you down and tear away at who you are? Stand up soldier! The man who fucked over your life is standing right there! The man who thought he could turn one of Captain Roger's men into a Hydra slave! The man who represents every evil act you've ever commited! Time to clean the slate, wouldn't you agree?"

My voice keeps getting more insistent, rising in volume with every sentence until I'm thundering across the room. At my words, Bucky shakily turns towards where Pierce is still standing ramrod straight, though he's definitely sweating at this point. As the Winter Soldier's eyes land on his (now former) handler, his entire body stills, before he rises to his feet with eerie precision. Without taking his eyes off Pierce, or even acknowledging my or the Hydra scientists who are only know shakily working their way back to their hands and knees again, Bucky stalks closer and closer to the Hydra director.

To Pierce's credit, he doesn't take a step back, simply staring down the supersoldier even when they come within touching distance of each other and Bucky still keeps stepping closer. I can see the aged man draw himself up fully, as he barks out a familiar string of seemingly random words at the murderous man in front of him.

"Cтрастное желание, проржавевший, семнадцать, рассвет, печь, девять, доброкачественный, возвращение домой, один, грузовой вагон!"

Bucky briefly freezes at the words, before he takes the last two steps forwards that bring him almost chest to chest with Pierce, who is definitely panicked now, even as he doesn't allow himself to back away. He has largely accepted that he's going to die the moment he saw me sitting on his couch, but his own pride doesn't allow him to go without at least trying _something_. There was nothing he could do against me, but against the Winter Soldier he holds out the barest glimmer of something that could be considered hope.

"Soldier, you are to comply! That's an order-!"

Before the last word has even fully left his now dry and cracked lips, Bucky's metal arm shoots forwards, mechanical hand clamping down mercilessly on Pierce's throat as he effortlessly hoists the man up into the air, his feet dangling off the ground, the tips of his shoes not even scraping the concrete floor in their desperate struggling.

"I... don't... take orders from you... anymore..." Bucky growls out, and Pierce's eyes widen for a final time as he realizes this is how he's going to die.

Then there's a dry snap and the sound of crunched up plastic or cardboard, and Bucky opens his mechanical hand, allowing Pierce to drop to the floor with a crushed throat. He's not dead, but judging by his struggled wheezing and the way his hands claw at his ruined and rapidly bruising throat, it won't take long at this rate.

The Winter Soldier evidently doesn't have the patience for this as he violently brings down a boot on Pierce's head, making it burst like an overripe melon.

And thus ends one of the last remaining leaders of Hydra.

Bucky doesn't move for a few moments, boot and pants splattered with viscera as he trembles in fury, before he slowly looks over his shoulder back at me. His mask hides his mouth, but his eyes are blazing with hatred, making his expression easy to figure out.

"What's next?"

Internally I sigh at how he still feels a need to be told what to do. Hopefully, it will fade in time. It certainly had by the time Civil War had rolled around, but he hadn't been healed the way he's now. Who know how his psyche will end up forming this time around.

Outwardly, I reach down, grasping a cowering Nazi scientist in each hand by the scruff of their coats and easily tossing them up and over the desks and balustrade in front of me, allowing them to slam into the bare concrete floor at Bucky's feet with pained yelps and fearful cries.

A wave of my hand and a portal to the night sky above Othrys opens up behind me. I turn to walk through it, before pausing on the other side, glancing back at the waiting super assassin over my shoulder, the orange glow in my iris increasing in intensity at the promise of brutal violence.

"Next? Next comes your Vengeance of course. Good hunting, Sergeant Barnes."

The last thing I see is him reaching for the closest terrified scientist's face with his mechanical arm, but the portal slips shut before the screaming starts.

* * *

 **AN:** Sorry this is so short. Originally, I also wanted to include Jessica cleaning up Sowande and Murakami, probably with back up from Michael. Afterwards would be the Dwarves of Nidavellir with a surprise summons at the end. Michael would answer the summons before an opponent he'd last expects pops out of nowhere, inflicting massive damage and instigating a mad scramble towards the end phase of the story. I couldn't get that out, since I've just finished my final exams before I move away. I failed every single one. Yeah, I'm not in a good head space at the moment, so I can't really promise any future updates. The next one might come in a month, two months or maybe even only after I return from Australia. I still wanted to leave you guys with something before I left entirely though, so here this is. I hope you like it. I haven't proofread it thoroughly though, so if you spot any mistakes, feel free to point it out. Also, I used the Ideal Federal Savings Bank here 'cause that's what's shown in the movie, even though to me it looks like it was a temporary set-up because he was in the field in Washington. The wiki however lists it as a Hydra facility, so I kept it in.

 **Fun Fact:** The filming location for the Ideal Federal Savings Bank was the same building in Cleveland where Captain America rescued civilians from the Chitauri in The Avengers.

 _As always, I want to thank all of my patrons. Given the huge of amounts of expenses that have recently been hitting me, your support has been a lifesaver (which is uncomfortably close to being literal). I cannot thank you enough for your aid, I truly appreciate every single one of you. Don't forget to check my page to see the varying extras that you can claim for the different tiers and always to feel free to PM me with comments and suggestions! IronmanMarkIV, Shaman95, justlovereadin, Daniel Dorfman, Luis Zepeda, DoctorTortoise, DavidJ, CJ Elsen, Carn Krauss, ReaperScythe, RC Oprea, Devon, Kyle Reese, Josh Tucker, RLStrained, Vu, Roman Krupkin, thanks to all of you_


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